Lost and Found
by ofcatsandwomen
Summary: Daredevil fic. What happened when Matt met Foggy? An intimate account of Matt Murdock's and Foggy Nelson's first few days at Columbia University, which saw the beginning of one of the best friendships in comicdom. Around 25 chapters when complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

"Okay Matty, the door is about eight feet in front of you and there are three steps so be careful." Jack Murdock kept a watchful eye out for anything that might present an obstacle to his son while pulling two large suitcases from the trunk of the cab they had splurged on for the ride uptown.

"Geez Dad, which is scarier, the door or the steps?" Matt smiled at Jack and shook his head a little. He knew that his dad usually worked very hard at suppressing his urge to overdo it in the helping department, but this was a big day for both of them. He could be excused for feeling the need to be a little more attentive than usual.

Jack knew that comment, or something similar, was coming before Matt even opened his mouth. The fact of the matter was that his son was perfectly capable of getting around on his own, and Jack knew that Matt found his mother hen tendencies to be a little annoying at times. He just couldn't help himself. Jack was nervous, and he knew that Matt was too, whether he would admit to it or not.

"I'm sorry kid, I'm just trying to look out for you." Jack handed the driver the fare and picked up the suitcases he'd left waiting on the sidewalk. Meanwhile Matt had made it to the front door and was holding it open for him.

"I know you are, Dad. You sure you don't want me to take one of those bags?" Matt heard his father's slightly labored breath and rapid heartbeat as he felt the heat and mass of his body move past him through the entrance.

"Well here's how I see it. I was never much good at helping you out with your homework, so let me just do this. Make your old man feel like he's at least good for something."

"Come on Dad, that just sounds depressing. Like you're a pack mule or something." Matt let the massive door close behind him and followed his dad into the lobby of the building. The area was full of people coming and going in all directions, and Jack had stopped to let Matt get a little closer. It was as if he had subconsciously picked up on his son's aversion to large crowds over the years.

"You want to take my arm?" Jack casually glanced over at Matt before taking a look around for some additional information about what floor Matt would be on and where they might be able to get a key.

"Only if you let me take one of those bags. I think that's a fair deal." Matt smiled, pleased with the way he'd just blackmailed his dad into giving up his exclusive load-carrying privileges.

"All right." Jack put down the lighter of the two bags on Matt's right and waited for him to pick it up. He then took his cane, to keep it out of the way, and gave Matt a couple of seconds to latch onto him before moving in the direction of the registration area he'd just located. "I think this is where we get the key, Matty."

"Okay, if you say so." Matt took a few seconds to try to get a better feel for the place. The lobby was quite large, with two elevators in the back and a reception area on his right, staffed by a couple of people. They were both young, probably students. He and Jack found their spot in line behind two other parent-offspring duos and Matt divided most of his attention for the next few minutes between listening to his father's nervously beating heart to his left and the near hysterical conversation between a girl and her mother right in front of him. He actually had to concentrate to keep himself from smiling as the girl, whose name turned out to be Molly, debated boyfriend visitation rights with the older woman whose dolphin squeak for a voice kept repeating "now you listen to me young lady" as if it were a mantra.

Jack saw how hard Matt was working at keeping a straight face while they waited, and he didn't need psychic abilities to figure out that his son was quite enjoying the show they were being treated to. He leaned over and whispered, "See, I'm not that bad after all."

"Shh. Dad, they'll hear you." Matt was almost cracking up. "Besides, I never said you were anywhere near bad."

"Yeah, I s'pose you're right. You're a good kid." The people at the very front of the line were finished and Jack took a step forward with Matt following right behind. Molly and her mother both appeared to have suddenly gone through a complete change of personality as their turn was coming up. They had buried the hatchet and joined forces in their common goal of charming the people behind the counter into handing over the much-coveted key to freedom for both of them.

"It's a nice place. Big. Stone walls, right?" Matt kept his sensory enhancements hidden from the world, but gauging the size of a room was no superpower and there was a very particular echo in the lobby.

"Yeah. I'm telling you, this place is much nicer than anything you'd see in Hell's Kitchen. The walls are some kind of red marble, but that could just be imitation I guess. Looks expensive. But you better watch out, they have some chairs here right in the middle of the lobby."

"Dad, give me some credit, will you. You need to stop worrying so much."

"I can promise I'll try. How's that?"

"Not good enough. If you're going to worry, pick something else to worry about." Matt hoped he didn't come across as too stern, but his own nervousness was bad enough without Jack adding to it. Of course, they didn't worry about the same things. Getting safely from point A to point B was not a major concern in Matt's book. Getting over the feeling of being a fish out of water, who wouldn't know a soul in this place the minute his dad decided to head back to the apartment, most certainly was. While Matt was looking forward to finally spreading his wings and taking the next inevitable step into adulthood, part of him felt like a little kid who had gotten lost at the mall.

Matt and his father were close. Jack Murdock was a flawed man in more ways than Matt liked to think about, but there was still a lot of good in him. The last few years had been the best and worst of their lives. While Matt had made a habit of hiding big portions of his life from his father, he had never felt as close to him as he had during the last couple of years. Maybe because he understood him better, or maybe because he realized how much alike they really were, in spite of everything else. And his dad's boxing career had started gaining momentum as well. They were far from rich, but these days his dad could afford to take him out to a restaurant every once in a blue moon, and Matt's wardrobe had received a much needed update in time for college; though he was relieved that his dad had allowed him to go shopping with a couple of friends instead of taking him personally. When you had to rely on other people for fashion advice, taking a parent to go shopping for clothes was a risky business.

There had been tough times as well. Jack had taken his son's accident very hard and Matt knew that he still felt bad about it more often than he let on. The last couple of years had been better though. While Jack knew nothing about the strange abilities his son had gained in the same accident that took his sight, Matt had somehow managed to convince him, through his actions and general attitude, that he was doing okay. He did very well in school, had a fairly active social life, and exuded the kind of happiness and confidence that usually helped put his father's mind at ease.

When it was finally their turn at the counter, Matt and Jack were greeted by a young woman whose voice was full of the kind of forced enthusiasm that seemed like just another garment she put on in the morning. "Well, hi there guys and welcome to Columbia! Can I get a name?"

"Yeah, I'm Matthew Murdock." Matt waited while she went through the pile of paper in front of her, listening to the loud rustle as the sheets where shuffled around.

"Hmmm… Murdock, Murdock… Oh here it is! Matthew Michael Murdock?"

"That would be me," Matt answered through one of his crooked smiles. "My parents obviously had a thing for the letter 'M.' Right dad?"

"Now you're riding my ass about the name too?" Jack laughed.

"I like my name, I'm just saying." Matt focused his senses on the girl in front of him. She was fairly short and squat and her hair seemed to lay flat against her skull. She smelled of something expensive, and he was yet again reminded of how different his own life had been compared to that of most of his fellow students. If he hadn't received a full scholarship, he could never have afforded to go to this school, and just paying for food and housing was going to take a huge chunk out of his father's budget. Matt had grown up in a household where there was always food on the table and a gift or two under the tree at Christmas, but there had been no excesses of any kind.

"Okay, here's your key," the young woman said, hesitating a little. She was relieved when Matt put his hand out for her to hand it to him. "Your roommate is Franklin Nelson. As far as I can tell he should be here already."

"So where do we go now?" Matt ran his thumb across the clunky key a couple of times before putting it in his pocket.

"Oh, sorry. It's on the third floor, just take the elevator, and there should be a note on the door. Also, the apartment number is on the key."

"Okay, then. I'm sure we'll manage. Thanks." Matt felt his dad lightly touch the back of his left hand. That was his cue to take his arm and was a routine that had become so ingrained that the thought of not complying didn't even occur to him. He didn't actually need to be guided anywhere, but he didn't particularly mind either. Especially not through dense crowds.

"You guys have a fantastic day!" the young woman yelled at their backs before addressing the next people in line with the same chipper greeting she'd offered them just a couple of minutes earlier.

"Franklin Nelson, huh? That sounds mighty fancy if you ask me." Jack pushed the button on the wall between the two elevators and studied Matt closely for a reaction. He could only hope that his son didn't feel as out of his league in this place as he did.

"I don't know. It doesn't sound like anything to me, I'm sure he's okay." Matt had no way of knowing one way or the other, and he _was_ nervous about meeting the guy he was going to be living with for the foreseeable future. Most of all, he just wanted to get the first encounter out of the way. Ever since the accident, first encounters with new people had been a little awkward. Lots of people were unsure of how to act around him before they got to know him, and he always had to prepare himself mentally for that initial reaction.

"You're probably right," Jack said, reminding himself to not let his own insecurities shine through too much. "Here's the elevator, Matt." The doors opened and Jack moved his arm back a little so Matt would get behind him. There wasn't a lot of space to move around as it was, and the two suitcases didn't help. The elevator was empty however, which was a little surprising given the circumstances.

Matt got in and leaned against the side wall. Reaching out with his radar sense he could detect the buttons protruding from the panel next to the door on his side of the elevator and he reached out to touch them. There was actually Braille numbering next to each buttons which wasn't unusual for new elevators, especially not in a building like this one. He pressed the one for the third floor, and the doors were already starting to close when four more people decided to join the party and stumbled in, bringing even more luggage. Among them were Molly and her mother.

"What floor do you want?" Matt asked as he was the one who was squished up against buttons.

"Three, please," all four said in unison and assorted giggles followed.

"I guess that means we're neighbors then." Matt could sense that everyone was pressed up against the wall with most of the luggage on the floor in the center, so he knew that there was enough room to stick his hand out and introduce himself properly. "I'm Matt Murdock."

"Oh, hi! I'm Molly." Her small and well-manicured hand felt almost like a child's to Matt.

"Nice to meet you, Molly." As he released her hand from his grip, he could tell that a second person – a guy – had already put his hand out. Matt couldn't let it be known that he knew it was there and once more he waited for the other person to find his hand rather than the other way around. It wouldn't take a genius to figure out that he was blind and hence the source of his inaction.

"Eric Goldman." This hand was a more even match for his own and Matt could tell, using every sense at his disposal, that Eric was almost as tall as he was and probably quite the athlete too. He had a pleasant voice, and sounded like a nice guy. Matt responded by giving his own name once more.

"Well, I guess this is it." Matt felt the elevator slowly come to a stop and within a couple of seconds the doors opened. "I'll see you around then."

"Sure, bye!" Molly seemed to almost bounce out of the elevator and everyone else spilled out like a glass of milk tipped on its side.

Jack picked up both suitcases this time and held the elevator door open for Matt. With both of them out in the large hallway outside, he started to look around for the door with his son's name on it.

From the sound alone, Matt got a good idea of the size and dimensions of the room they were in, and as he let his radar sense fill in the rest, he could make out the indentations of several door wells along each side of the corridor. "Do you see it, dad?"

"Yeah, I think… Oh, it's left here, but the door is on the other side of the hall. Does that make sense to you?"

"Yeah, I think so." Obstacles could be felt as he approached them, whether Matt was actively focusing on his radar sense or not. It was a vague feeling of the air getting denser, and as he moved across the hall, he felt the distinct push of the wall against his face at about the same time as the tip of his cane came up against it, and he paused at the first door.

"Over here, Matty. Two doors down." Jack stopped in front of the door and put the suitcases down, giving his son another couple of seconds to catch up. "Are you ready to go in?"

"As ready as I'll ever be." Matt gave his dad a brave smile that belied how nervous he really was. "Time to meet Franklin Nelson."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_Please God, don't let him be a jock._ That was the one thought going through Foggy Nelson's head while he stared up at the cracks in the ceiling from the bed he was resting on. He wasn't particularly religious – didn't come from a church-going family – but he figured that a prayer couldn't hurt. When you really thought about it, the idea of assigned roommates was pretty wild. It wasn't like summer camp where you would sleep in bunk beds or tents for a week with dozens of other people. A college roommate was a complete stranger you were supposed to actually share your home with. A great thing if everything worked out okay, but a complete nightmare if the guy turned out to be a jerk. Foggy decided to change the wording of his little prayer accordingly. Not all jocks were jerks, after all. _Please God, don't let him be a jerk_.

Foggy had only had about an hour to check out the digs, make up his bed and do most of the unpacking. His bags were still all over the floor and he was half-considering doing something about that. Soon, before his roommate showed up. Realizing that might actually happen any second, he got up from the bed and took the last of the contents out of his bags and the two moving boxes that held all of his most valued possessions. He put the assorted clothes, books and school paraphernalia on his bed in a big pile and pushed his duffel bags into the closet. He folded the boxes and put them under the bed, promising himself to find a better place for them later. Foggy Nelson was not a slob by any means, but he suddenly found himself making yet another wish. _I hope he's not a neat freak_. He got enough of that at home. With his mother dedicating most of her time to keeping the house in a condition that would allow a surprise visit from Better Homes & Gardens, Foggy hoped for a roommate who wouldn't throw a fit at the sight of a crumbled potato chip under the sofa cushions. That would be a nice change of pace. For all her neuroticism, his mom wasn't too bad though. She loved him as much as she loved his younger sister Candace, despite the fact that she wasn't even his biological mother.

Foggy's relationship with the woman who had actually given birth to him was strained. He had a great deal of respect for her, and envisioned himself following in her footsteps professionally, but there was no warmth there. Rosalind Sharpe met her son with the same kind of exasperated patience a new dog owner might extend to a puppy that had yet to be housebroken. They would meet a couple of times a year, and every time Foggy felt like he was applying for a job. He always struggled to make a good first impression, frustrated by the fact that it was about eighteen years too late for that. She'd ask him about his school work, and pick on him about his wardrobe choices. Then she'd tell him about her cases. They were always big in scope, frequently involved famous clients and generated a great deal of money. Rosalind Sharpe was a terrible mother, but she was a brilliant attorney. Foggy figured that if he could learn only half of the skills in her arsenal, he might one day be a fairly decent lawyer himself.

Foggy sat down among the piles of stuff on his bed and let out a sigh. He took a look at his watch, and saw that it was ten minutes past noon. The only thing he knew about the guy that would sleep in the bed next to his was his name, and that didn't tell him much except that he probably wasn't Chinese. Growing more nervous with each passing minute he decided to pass the time by watching TV in the next room. Foggy had been pleasantly surprised when he realized how big the place was. Most of the dorm rooms at Columbia where not just bedrooms, but actual suites. With its own bathroom and a small living room, equipped with a kitchen area, the place was like a one bedroom apartment. If the other guy _did_ turn out to be a jerk, he figured that he could at least move out into the living room and sleep on the couch.

Halfway through the door, Foggy heard a knock which was followed immediately by the sound of the front door knob turning. Just a second later, the door swung open and tall guy wearing jeans, a red T-shirt and sunglasses walked in followed by a slightly shorter man who looked like a cave man who had been given a twentieth century make-over. The older man put down the two suitcases he was carrying and gave Foggy an accusatory look. It was only then that he realized that his jaw had dropped ever so slightly. _Matthew Murdock was_… _blind?_ "Oh, hi…" Foggy heard himself speak as if from a distance and realized that his voice sounded much too high-pitched. Starting over, he added, "I mean, hi. Uhm, welcome!"

"Are you Franklin Nelson?" Matt took another couple of steps into the room, carefully analyzing his new roommate's reaction. It was pretty typical, and neither better nor worse than expected. He moved his cane in towards his body – and out of the way – and put his hand out.

"Foggy…" Foggy quickly stepped forward and shook it.

"I beg your pardon?" Matt was a little confused.

"I go by Foggy. Hardly anyone calls me Franklin." Foggy heard himself let out a slightly nervous laugh, and glanced over at the older man who seemed to be judging his every move.

Matt suppressed an urge to ask why in God's name anyone would want to go by a name like Foggy, answering instead, "Sounds good to me. I'm Matt Murdock. Oh, and this is my dad Jack." He let go of Foggy's hand and moved his out in a sweeping gesture to the side.

"Foggy Nelson, Nice to meet you, sir." Foggy tried to look as tough as he possibly could as he met the eyes of the man who looked a little bit like a Neanderthal next to his decidedly more Cro Magnon son. This was obviously a man who had gone through life relying more on his knack for intimidation than his charm.

"Jack Murdock." Jack gave Foggy a quick smile. He knew the effect he had on people, and he sometimes needed to remind himself that not everyone was an opponent waiting to take a swing at him. Jack quickly looked around the place and immediately found it to his liking. With the amount of money he would be paying every month, he expected nothing less. He put an arm on Matt's shoulder. "You should see the place, kid. It's almost the size of our apartment. There's a kitchen area right here, _and_ a TV."

"I'm sure it's nice, dad." Matt quickly probed the space around him, sensing a counter next to what was probably a stove to his left and some cabinets above it. Right in front of him, at the far end of the room, was a small couch next to an armchair and a coffee table. In the corner was a blocky square shape that he knew had to be a TV. There were two doors on the right. Judging by the size of the rooms and the smell of toilet bowl cleaner and chlorine coming from the one nearest to him, he knew which one was the bathroom. Releasing the images and bringing his radar sense back in, he set about exploring the area in the expected manner, letting his cane find the couch and running his hand over the fabric, surprised to discover that it was corduroy. "So there's a separate bedroom, right?"

"Oh, it's right through here," Foggy said, opening the door to the bedroom all the way and getting as far out of the way as he possibly could to let Matt and Jack through. He wasn't sure that all of two minutes was enough to get used to the idea that he would be sharing the suite with a blind guy, but he was already starting to feel more intrigued than freaked out by the concept. He watched as Matt quickly located all the major pieces of furniture in the bedroom, and Foggy thanked his lucky star that he had followed his instinct to pick his stuff off the floor. Jack seemed pleased with the setup and looked a little less scary to Foggy than he had just a minute earlier.

"So which bed did you pick?" Matt turned to Foggy whose heart rate had started dropping back down to near normal levels.

"The one behind you. The right one. But we can switch if you want, I don't really care either way."

"No, that's okay. I don't care either. This will be good." Matt smiled at Foggy who had finally worked up the courage to walk into the room, and noticed Jack passing behind him to go back out for the bags by the front door. "So I take it you didn't get the manual?"

"What manual?" Foggy was utterly confused.

"The blind roommate manual. It's about a hundred pages, so I don't think you could have missed it." If there was one thing Matt had learned in the last few years, it was the power if humor. It didn't work on everyone, but he was pretty sure it would work on Franklin Nelson.

"Eh, no." Foggy felt a smile forming involuntarily. He was sure that was a joke. Definitely. _Or was it?_ "Wait, you _are_ kidding, right?"

"Yeah, it's actually only twenty pages." Matt flashed Foggy a crooked smile and took a step back to let Jack pass in front of him and put the two suitcases on the bed, before quickly leaving the room again.

"I'm sorry if I seemed... I just didn't know. About you, I mean." Foggy didn't quite know how to put it, but he was already getting the feeling that whatever particular traits Matt might have, he seemed like a nice guy. Given the circumstances, honesty was the best policy.

"No, it's not that at all," Matt assured him, "I just know it's not exactly what people expect, so don't worry about it."

"Matt! Come here and take a look." Jack was calling from the bathroom. "I'll tell you, you could eat off the floor in here."

"I'm coming, Dad!" Matt turned to Foggy and shook his head a little, amused by his father's rather uncharacteristic enthusiasm. He knew Foggy was smiling back at him. Matt got back out into the bigger room and stuck his head in the bathroom door, with Foggy following right behind. It smelled clean in a way that he wasn't used to. The apartment he had grown up in was by no means one of the worst the city had to offer, but there was a moldy smell to it that no amount of cleaning could get rid of.

"Feel the wall here, Matt. Isn't that nice?" Jack looked around at the clean matted tiles that went halfway up the wall. The rest of it was covered with smooth light green wallpaper. Everything else – the sink, toilet and shower – looked spotless.

Matt briefly ran his hand across the tiles, but wasn't exactly sure what he was supposed to be feeling. It didn't feel like anything in particular except clean, but maybe that was the whole point. For a second, Matt wondered what Foggy must be thinking. He doubted that Foggy's parents had been blown away at the sight of a modern, clean apartment.

"Here, let me get out of the way, so you can see for yourself." Jack went back out into the big room and waited for Matt to get in. It was nice, but not big enough for two people to comfortably move around in.

"That's okay, dad. I'll check it out later. But you're right, it's really nice. This will work out fine." Matt could tell that Jack was a little anxious. But it was hard to tell whether it was because he was worried about leaving him there or whether he just dreaded going back to the old apartment alone.

"You really think you'll be okay here? It'll take some getting you used to, of course." Jack wondered how long it might take for Matt to get comfortable with the new place. It wasn't like the apartment in Hell's Kitchen where he knew where everything was.

"Just give me a day or two, and it'll be just like home. I'll be totally fine, I promise." Matt almost got the feeling that his dad was stalling, not quite ready to let go.

"Okay, I best be going then." Jack realized he had overstayed his welcome, and as much as he resisted the idea of going home alone, he knew that it was time to let go.

"Yeah, I guess this is it." Matt walked up to his dad and gave him a hug. He felt Jack hug him back a little harder than usual.

"I'm gonna miss you, kid."

"Come on Dad, we're still in the same city. I'll call you, okay?" Matt let go of his father and did his best to look directly at him.

"Yeah, I know. Call me after the orientation, would you? I just want to hear how everything went." Jack quickly looked around the place one more time and went for the door. He tried to ignore the feeling of his heart being ripped from his chest, and was surprised by the intensity of his own emotions. Maybe this was what all parents felt, or maybe it was just him.

"Okay, I will. Bye, Dad." Matt sensed the powerful shape of his father open the door and slip out, muttering a final goodbye. He took his scent and heartbeat with him, and before long, every trace of him was gone.

**oooOooo**

Jack Murdock had decided to walk back to Hell's Kitchen – a decent trek of about seventy blocks – hoping that the fresh air would clear his head. He needed to keep his focus on next evening's fight, making sure that the money kept coming in to support his son. But as he stepped back outside, his legs felt wobbly and his head was spinning. Mixed up with the separation anxiety was an enormous rush of relief. If getting Matt through college was step two, then this day marked the end of step one. If anyone had told him just a few years ago that there would even be a step two, he wouldn't have believed it.

Jack found a suitably priced diner a few blocks south where he could get a cup of coffee and a club sandwich. He was going to wait to eat until he got back, but he realized he needed some time to get his head together. As it was, he was unable to stop all the memories from coming back up to the surface. Jack had never had any specific plans for a family and certainly hadn't expected to be raising a child alone. His own father had set a perfect example of what not to do, and all Jack could aim for with Matt was to try and do the opposite. To try and make sure that he would raise his son to be better than he was. He'd tried to keep him out of the school yard fights and focused on the only thing that would ever be able to get him ahead – his school work. Looking back, Jack wondered if there was ever really a need to be so tough on him. He was a good kid, always had been, and actually enjoyed school for the most part. Maybe he had been too strict.

Jack would never forget the evening more than four years earlier when he had come home to find the apartment empty. The answer to where Matt was came within moments as the phone rang, the unexpected signal cutting through the eerie silence and making Jack almost jump out of his skin. Twenty minutes later, when he arrived at the hospital, he would learn that he had indeed raised a kid who was better than him – better than most. Matt had saved a man's life. Except for some minor scrapes, the old man he had pushed out of the way of an oncoming truck was completely unharmed, but Jack would soon learn the catastrophic extent of Matt's own injuries. The doctor didn't even bother with the sugarcoating. While it was too soon to be completely certain at that point, it would take a miracle for his son's prognosis to be anything but an irreversible and complete loss of vision. The miracle never came.

While Matt himself seemed to take the news in relative stride, Jack felt like he was in a free fall. The thousands of images around him, that he knew his son would never see again, seemed to be mocking him. Watching the sun set was no longer enjoyable, it was like getting stabbed in the heart. Along with the grief came the worry. Would Matt be able to get a job, have a family of his own or even live by himself? Would he ever be happy?

Jolted back to the present by the waitress offering him a refill of his coffee, Jack knew that the answers to all those questions was a resounding 'yes.' Matt had learned to live without the use of his eyes, and he seemed genuinely happy and confident. Jack knew that he was destined for great things.

"Sir, would there be anything else?" The waitress, a beautiful brunette in her early thirties, smiled at him.

"No, I think that'll be all. Thank you." He smiled back.

"Okay, then. Here's your check, whenever you're ready." She paused and looked out the window, adding, "Beautiful day, isn't it?"

"It's perfect." Jack suddenly felt the need to share this moment with another human being. "You know, I just dropped my son off at school. The kid got a full scholarship to Columbia, can you believe it?" He shook his head a little at absurdity of it all. His son was going places. He couldn't actually see where he was going, but that didn't seem to stop him.

"You must be very proud!"

"That, I am. More than he'll ever know." Jack met her smile and put eight dollars on the table. It was time to get back to Hell's Kitchen, and he noticed as he stood up that his legs felt a little steadier this time. That was a good thing. He had fights to win.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"You know, I think my dad is coming down with a serious case of empty nest syndrome." Matt was still standing by the door, but had turned back around to face Foggy.

"Are you the last one out of the house?"

"I'm an only child, actually. It's always been just my dad and me. My mom died when I was little."

"I'm sorry." Foggy didn't know what else to say.

"It's okay, I don't even remember her. I mean, I wish I did, but I never really had a chance to miss her, you know? Besides, dad and I got along fine by ourselves. I just hope he won't waste away without me around. The guy can't cook, I'll tell you that much." Matt laughed a little at the memory of some of the things his dad had fed him growing up. It was usually edible, but anything more than that was a stretch.

"Oh, so you cook?" Foggy tried not to sound too surprised.

"I'd say I do okay." Matt's tone of voice let Foggy know that was something of an understatement. "Speaking of which, do you want to go get something to eat, maybe have a look around?" Matt was starting to feel a little hungry and he checked his watch for the time, feeling Foggy's eyes on him as he flipped it open and went through the motions. It was twelve thirty.

"Yeah, we should get some lunch, I'm _starving_." Foggy's eyes followed Matt as he moved toward the window while doing what he assumed to be a blind guy's version of checking out the premises. "So, can I ask you something?"

"Sure." Matt turned when he got to the window and sat down on the couch just below it.

"What's on page one in the manual?" Foggy knew there was no manual, but if there was anything in particular he needed to know, he preferred to learn about it sooner rather than later.

"Oh _that_…" Matt laughed a little. "Well, if there _were_ a manual, I guess rule number one would be to not rearrange the furniture without telling me." With his senses being what they were, Foggy could rearrange the furniture all he wanted, but a certain amount of pretense was required. Matt knew that his abilities were not what anyone would consider normal.

"Oh, don't worry. I haven't rearranged a single piece of furniture in my life. I get enough of that at home."

"Really?"

"Well, my mom gets bored with the look of the living room about once a month so she moves stuff around. My room, on the other hand, has looked about the same since I was five." Thinking about how odd that probably sounded, Foggy added, "Well, I got rid of the toys and the Sesame Street posters, but other than that…"

Matt laughed a little. Foggy seemed like a funny guy in an insecure sort of way. Like someone who didn't give himself the credit he deserved. "Yeah well, most of it's pretty self-explanatory. I don't mind if you borrow my things, just put them back exactly where you found them, otherwise I won't know where they are. And, don't leave things in the middle of the floor, don't leave doors half-open… What else?" Matt thought about it for a moment. He had very few specific needs in that department, but there were a couple of preferences. Because far from everything was immediately recognizable by scent, sound or shape alone, he really did prefer to keep things in specific locations. "Oh, I don't know. Generally though, unless I specifically ask for it, don't worry about helping me with anything. Really, I'm _just_ your roommate, and I'm used to doing things for myself."

"Okay, got it." Foggy had sat down in the chair across from Matt and noticed how he put his foot up on the edge of the coffee table.

"Oh, what's our policy on putting our feet up, by the way?" While Matt has been raised to know the value of good manners, his dad didn't exactly run a household where everything had to be prim and proper.

"I think we're _totally_ okay with that." Foggy hoped that Matt would know from the sound of his voice that he meant every word of it. So what if his roommate had an understandable need for a certain amount of order? He was laid-back, and as far as Foggy was concerned, that was very good news. Matt wouldn't mind a potato chip or two under the cushions.

"Good!" Matt smiled. "Okay, how about if I unpack real quick, and then we go out?"

"Yeah, I have some unpacking left to do myself." Foggy sighed as he remembered the mountain of stuff waiting for him on his bed. He got up and followed Matt through the door to the other room.

Matt walked over to his bed, leaned his cane against the door frame and then listened as Foggy moved all his things to one side of the bed and sat down. He decided to put his books up on the shelf before making the bed, and opened his first suitcase.

"Wow, you've got some pretty impressive-looking books there." Foggy couldn't help noticing the proportions of the massive tomes that were being lined up on the shelf above his roommate's bed.

Matt stopped what he was doing, and smiled at Foggy. "Well, they're not as impressive as they look. Braille takes up more space than print, but I always figured that it makes me look smart, right?"

"Absolutely." He hesitated for a moment, then "So have you always been…? You know." Foggy wasn't sure it was polite to ask, but he was a straight-shooting kind of guy, and something told him Matt wouldn't mind.

"Infinitely near-sighted?" Matt stopped again and turned around.

"Yeah." Foggy was right, the question didn't seem to bother him.

"No. I had an accident a few years ago. It's kind of a long story, but remind me to tell you about it some time, I won't mind." Matt winced a little at the memory. The pain had been almost unbearable, and part of him was actually surprised his eyes hadn't been burned right out their sockets. He was pretty sure they weren't much to look at anymore, even though people had told him that it wasn't nearly as bad as he imagined.

"So you don't see anything then?" Foggy was in awe of the fact that Matt seemed to be okay with the whole thing.

"No, I'm totally blind. I'm used to it though, so don't feel bad for me. Okay? It's not a big deal."

"Okay, I won't." Foggy promised himself to at least try as he watched Matt put the last book up on the shelf and then sit down on the bed with a thud.

"So how about you Foggy? No gruesome accidents in your past, I hope."

"No. My life has been very safe. Maybe even a little too safe." He realized that probably sounded like an odd thing to say, and he wasn't the kind of guy who needed to climb mountains or jump out of airplanes to feel alive, but life might have been just a little too ordinary even for him.

"Too safe?" Now that was a novel idea to someone who had grown up in Hell's Kitchen.

"Yeah, it's been nice, but a little boring. So I'm desperately hoping that college life is everything it's cracked up to be. I wasn't going to do any binge drinking or anything, but I was hoping to meet some new people, take some fun classes. Stuff like that."

"Yeah, I'm really looking forward to it too. I mean, I have to admit that I'm a little nervous about the whole thing, but it's exciting at the same time. So, what classes are you going to take? Have you decided on a major yet?"

"I'm not sure yet. Whatever will get me into law school later, I guess."

"You're kidding me, right?"

"Why? I don't seem like the lawyer type or something?" Foggy's first instinct was always to assume that people didn't think very highly of him.

"No, it's not that at all. It's just that I was also planning on going to law school after I graduate. Who knows, maybe you'll be stuck with me longer than you planned."

"Cool. Fellow lawyer, huh?"

"Yeah, I always wanted to be a surgeon, but that's not going to work with the whole, you know… " Matt waved his hand in front of his face.

"Oh, yeah, I guess not." Foggy felt really bad for the guy until he noticed that Matt was smiling.

"Hey, I'm just kidding. Law was always going to be my first choice. I don't know, maybe I just like the idea of order or something. Why do you want to be a lawyer?"

"I haven't thought about it much. I have a couple of lawyers in the family, and it seems like an interesting job. I wish I was doing it for some higher purpose, but right now I just can't think of any other job I'd rather have."

"Well, that's as good a reason as any. At least it's something you've chosen for yourself, right?"

"Yeah. I think my mom would rather have me go into a profession that people actually respect, but I've promised her I won't go chasing ambulances or advertise on late night TV, so I think she's okay with it now."

"So what's your mom like?" Matt had always been a little jealous of all the kids who had mothers. His dad had done the best he could, but it wasn't the same.

"Oh, she's nice. Great cook. Kind of set in her ways, a little old-school, but she's a good mom. I'm sure you'll get to meet her one of these days."

"Yeah, unless you kick me out before the week is over, but I'll try to behave." Matt took out his clothes, folded them up and put them in the top drawer of the dresser on his side of the room. Foggy had a matching one on his side

"So about that lunch? Do you want to stay around here or head over to the main campus?" Foggy was more than ready to sink his teeth into a juicy burger.

"I don't know. How about we go to the main campus? I feel like I should get to know the place a little better before classes start. Maybe even try to figure out where this building is." He started going through his backpack, looking for a piece of paper. "Damn it, I can't find it."

"What are you looking for?"

"It's just… I have an appointment tomorrow at the disability services office to get things set up for my classes, and I should probably find out where it is." Matt wasn't exactly thrilled about going, but there was no doubt about it; hearing heartbeats and having the nose of a bloodhound did absolutely nothing in the reading blackboards department. He kept digging around for the elusive piece of paper until he finally struck gold. "Okay, here it is. Good." He gave it a quick read-through, paused for a second, then added "I also need to find out where the gym is."

"The _gym_?" Foggy was surprised until he took a closer look at Matt. He wasn't in the habit of checking out other guys, which was probably why he hadn't though about it before, but there was no denying that Matt was incredibly fit. Not big or bulky, just fit.

"Yeah, why? Are you surprised?" Matt had been working out for years, and while he'd never told his father about it, he was actually a little surprised his old man hadn't noticed that he'd put on quite a bit of muscle. On the other hand, maybe he'd just thought it was puberty or the Murdock genes. Either way, he wasn't going to miss the opportunity to use the university gym when it was free to students, and he didn't think he'd be able to sneak out at night the way he had in the past.

"Well, no. Not really." Foggy was lying. What he didn't know was that Matt always knew about things like that.

"You didn't think I… Oh, never mind." Matt decided not to push the issue, but it did annoy him a little, especially knowing that there were lots of perfectly ordinary blind people out there who went to gyms all the time. Okay, so maybe most weren't into the kind of acrobatics he was able to perform, but it wasn't like you needed to see anything to lift weights.

"Yeah, well we should ask about that, then." Foggy felt his face get red with embarrassment.

"I'm sorry if I sounded… it's just that people make certain assumptions about things. You know." Though Matt was pretty sure he didn't.

"No, it's fine. I promise not to assume anything from now on. Are you ready to go?" By now, Foggy's stomach was growling.

"Sure." Matt smiled as he pulled a couple of bills out of his wallet. They were folded for easy identification. It wasn't strictly necessary since he could tell them apart anyway, but, aside from being expected of him, it was something of a time saver. "Let's go!" He pushed the bills into his back pocket and reached for the cane at the foot of the bed. He went for the door as Foggy followed behind him.

"You'll let me know if you need help, right?"

"I will, thanks. I've got it though." The hallway wasn't too crowded, and it seemed like most of the students had at least been able to dispose of their families.

Once they got outside, Matt took a deep breath of relatively fresh air. He was actually enjoying the fact that this wasn't the Kitchen. Everything smelled fresh and clean, not like garbage and sewage, even though he was still in the city. He listened as Foggy pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and unfolded it.

"Okay, I've got a map here, but I can check it when we get there. So how… what now?" He knew Matt had said that he'd ask if he needed anything, but the otherwise simple idea of just taking a stroll down the street seemed like it needed to have some kind of plan of attack. He hesitated a few moments while Matt took a few steps down the sidewalk, his cane jamming into a fire hydrant with a rather loud clang.

"Oops, will you look at that…" Matt turned back around and smiled while waiting patiently for Foggy to break free of whatever spell he was under. He was noticeably nervous. "Are you coming?"

"Uhm, sure… So you know where we're going?" He followed down the steps and caught up with Matt who had resumed his stroll down the sidewalk.

"Yeah, I've checked the map like ten times. It should be two blocks straight ahead to get to the main entrance to the campus, which is also right next to the subway station. Then we make a right, look for the stairs on the left. Beyond that, we'll just experiment. But if you have a map with you, that's great."

"Okay, well that sounds like a plan…" Foggy had to push himself to keep up with Matt, whose legs were longer than his. There was no doubt that his roommate seemed to know what he was doing.

"Trust me, this is what I do every day." Matt let his senses run free and probed his surroundings for anything useful or interesting. His radar sense was good for a few hundred feet in either direction, beyond which point the signal became too faint to pick up. He could feel the impressions of the buildings on the other side of the street, blobs shaped like people moving along each sidewalk and the cars going in all different directions. For pure mobility purposes, there was nothing like it. Being in a new place like this, Matt was once again insanely grateful for the magic trick his brain was able to perform. Knowing that the path ahead was more or less clear, he let some of the attention needed to focus his radar beyond the bare minimum to be diverted to sorting out everything else around him. He quickly noticed that finding his way back would be a snap since their building was squeezed in between a coffee house and a flower shop. It was like the olfactory equivalent of a neon sign. The campus itself was too far away to be perceived by his radar sense, but he could hear people going up and down the stairs to the subway station, and there was something about the way the wind moved that signaled a more open area in the distance.

Foggy bridged the short distance between them as Matt stopped at the first intersection to wait for him. "Hey, you mind slowing down a bit?" He was wondering if the fact that he couldn't keep up with a blind guy was a sign that he needed to be in better shape, though there was really nothing he could do to make his legs grow any longer.

"Oh, sorry man." Matt thought about it for a split second, and decided that he might as well teach another lesson from the fictional blind roommate manual. "Why don't you set the pace instead?"

"What do you mean?" Foggy's bewilderment lifted as he noticed Matt's hand climb its way up his arm.

"Like this. You lead, I follow. If it's okay, I mean. I just thought I'd show you since it makes sense to do it like this sometimes."

"Yeah, sure. I don't mind. What am I supposed to do exactly?"

"Well, that's the easy part. Just walk normally. Of course, if you walk me into a lamp post or telephone pole or something I will resent you for it forever." Matt dearly hoped that wouldn't happen since he would then be forced to ignore the feeling of it getting closer and actually walk into it. Just one of those things you had to put up with as a blind guy with bizarre abilities you didn't want anyone to know about. Of course, if Foggy ever insisted on dragging him to a heavy metal concert, it would be nice if he actually knew how to do these things.

"I may not be the smartest guy on the planet, but I think I can manage that." Foggy glanced over at Matt who seemed to be waiting for him to get going and he resumed his stroll down the street. It didn't feel weird at all.

"Well you had to be pretty smart to get into this school right?" Most students who applied to Columbia didn't get in, so whatever opinions Foggy had about himself were probably lower than they should have been.

"Yeah, I did well. But I was friends with the top three mathletes in school so I think my idea of smart is a little off."

"I'm trying to think of whether we even had any 'mathletes' at my school. It's not exactly my favorite subject, personally."

"Well, at our school it wasn't just a euphemism. We had an actual math team."

"You're _kidding_ me. Did it count as a sport?"

"Not exactly, and they weren't really considered to be all that cool if you know what I mean."

"So no cheerleaders at math practice then?"

"Not exactly. But then again, cheerleaders are overrated."

"Hey, don't say that. I actually dated a cheerleader."

"You _did_?" Despite his previous comment, Foggy was beyond impressed. He made a mental note of trying to break free from the psychological confines of the high school social hierarchy.

"Okay, that was _maybe_ a stretch. We went out twice, and it didn't work out. On the other hand, she's one of my best friends now so it wasn't a total loss."

"Still, that's impressive. I think I've been spoken to by a cheerleader, does that count?" Foggy smiled as he heard Matt laugh.

"That depends. What did she say to you?"

"Probably nothing nice. I don't remember exactly." They had reached the final crosswalk before getting to the campus, and Foggy pushed the walk button. "So how did you get to be friends with a cheerleader anyway?"

"I didn't tell you I was captain of the football team?"

"No, I think you forgot to mention that." Foggy shook his head a little at Matt's weird brand of wit as he continued across the street with his roommate attached, though he barely noticed it anymore.

"Okay, the truth is that I wasn't captain of the football team. I'll be completely honest and tell you I wasn't even on the football team, which I'm sure must come as a complete shock to you."

"Yes, I'm stunned actually."

"No, she was one of my readers, and she was totally in it for the cash too, which was a nice change."

"Readers?"

"Yeah, it's pretty much what it sounds like. It's someone who reads stuff to you since a lot of things are only available as print."

"Right."

"So that's how I met Jessie, and she feel victim to the Murdock charm. Well, until she sobered up after two dates."

"So she dumped you?"

"I'm not even sure we were technically going out, so I don't think you can call it that really. The funny thing is that she was a _terrible_ reader."

"Couldn't you have fired her?"

"I didn't have the heart to." Matt laughed "She would always chew gum, couldn't actually pronounce anything with more than three syllables and didn't sound like she was really processing any of it. She needed the cash though. I think her family had even less money than mine."

"But you don't have a girlfriend now?" Foggy was pretty sure he didn't, otherwise he probably would have mentioned something about it.

"No, I never did. I mean, I've dated, but nothing serious. How about you?"

"That's a definite no." Foggy chuckled at the idea. It wasn't that he was worse-looking than anyone else, more overweight than most or even that much of a geek. He was just so painfully average that he doubted anyone would actually notice him.

"Well, maybe our luck will change. Isn't college supposed to be all about reinventing yourself and stuff?"

"Oh God, I hope so." Foggy finally found himself staring up at the steps that would take them onto the campus grounds. "Matt, this is it." He felt Matt let go of his arm and saw him sort of poke at the first couple of steps. Meanwhile Foggy pulled the map out of his back pocket and unfolded it. It was a little big and made him feel like a tourist.

"Okay, do you have a plan?" Matt reached out with his senses and quickly realized that they were standing smack in the middle of everything. It might have been a better idea to just move to the side. As it was, there were people everywhere on both sides and he just felt like he was in the way.

"Yeah, if we go straight up here, we'll get to the main level with the library straight ahead and the cafeteria should be somewhere to the right. I think."

"Well, that sounds comforting." Matt smiled and started going up the steps, his mere presence cutting a wide corridor through the crowd, kind of like Moses parting the sea. When he got to the top, he waited for Foggy to catch up."

"Geez, you're fast! Are you trying to lose me or something?"

"Darn it, you just uncovered my secret plan."

"Ha, ha, very funny." Foggy looked around at all the buildings, trying to locate them on the map and was relieved to find that everything actually made sense. The campus was beautiful, and the idea that this, the whole college experience, was finally a reality began to sink in. "Wow, this place is great!"

"I'll take your word for it." Matt gave him a faint smile. His perceptions had been forever altered, first in the accident and later with Stick's training, resulting in both losses and gains. The one loss he still mourned from time to time was the inability to truly experience visual beauty. Foggy obviously saw something in this place that he just didn't.

"So do you want me to describe the place? I'm not sure I'd be good at it, but I could try if you want me to."

Matt was a little surprised by the question, which he didn't quite know how to respond to. His dad would describe things to him all the time without asking first, and a couple of his friends from high school would do the same, mostly when it came to members of the opposite sex. "I appreciate the offer, but you don't have to. But I do need to know which building is which though, so what's this one here?" Matt pointed across the lawn with his free hand.

"How did you know there was a building there?" Foggy was completely puzzled.

"Well, you know how they say if you lose a sense, all your other senses get heightened?"

"Yeah?"

"It's true."

"Really?"

"No, it's not, I'm just pulling your leg." For everyone except him, that really _was_ a myth. "It just seems that way because you learn to pay attention to other things. The reason I know there's a building there is because I can hear a door opening and people coming and going. If there's a door, it's usually attached to a house."

"Huh, that actually makes sense."

"Of course it does." Matt smiled knowingly.

"Except in this case, that's really just a door. No house, I promise."

"Ha ha, very funny. Do I look stupid to you?" Matt was enjoying Foggy's irreverent sense of humor, and the fact that he didn't pull any punches with him. He was still a little nervous, but that would surely pass.

"Are you sure you want me to answer that?"

"Hey, I know I look good. How many people do _you_ know who can work the sunglasses indoors routine?"

"Probably just you." Foggy thought about it for a second, and realized that what he'd just said implied that they knew each other. They didn't really. Not yet. But as early as by the end of the day, they might.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The rest of the way to the cafeteria Foggy named all of the buildings they passed and Matt did his best to remember them. He had a pretty good memory but some names were both long and complicated, probably given in honor of past university benefactors and famous researchers. The one building that wasn't the least bit hard to pick out was the main dining hall. With the smells coming from the place, some of them not altogether pleasant, he couldn't have missed it if he tried.

Once inside, it took Matt mere seconds to register that the place was packed, but it was late enough that the lunch crowd should start to dissipate soon enough. He silently hoped that it wouldn't be this bad every day. He thought the high school cafeteria back home had been tough to handle, but this place literally had hundreds of people in it and the roar hit him like a shock wave.

"Hey, would you mind loosening your grip just a tad?" Foggy was sure that he was going to be wearing a bruise matching the shape of Matt's hand on his arm by the end of the day.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Matt said, letting go of Foggy while gradually pushing back the noise input to manageable levels. "I just don't like crowds for some reason. It's… They give me a headache. I didn't mean to crush your arm."

"That's okay, I'll just wear long sleeves for the next month. I bruise easily, you know." He had already figured out that his jokes seemed to work on Matt, and to him they had always been the perfect way to deal with awkward situations.

"Good thing for me that I don't," Matt countered. What he didn't mention was that his little accidents had more to do with his extracurricular activities than anything else. It wasn't that he couldn't be off his game every now and then, but it was rare.

"Well, it looks like they have a little bit of everything here. What are you hungry for?" Foggy had already decided what he wanted and had started to look around the place for an empty table somewhere.

"I'll just have what you're having." Matt finally had a good fix on the place and sensed a big counter on his right near where the smell of food was at its most intense. There were people scurrying around behind it and further back were all the telltale signs of a big kitchen.

"I'm having a burger and fries. I should probably lay off that stuff, I know, but I'm starving and…" Foggy suddenly remembered what an idiot he was. "I'm sorry, I forgot. I guess I should read what's on the menu, huh?"

"That's okay. A burger sounds great to me too." In fact, it was the only thing that smelled good. "Where are the trays and things?"

"Oh, it's right over… How do I do this?"

"Just tell me."

"All right. I'd say about ten feet straight ahead of you, but I'm not great at judging distances."

Matt could feel the impression of the counter becoming more intense as he approached it. It had been a really odd sensation when Stick had first taught him how to do it, but it had become second nature by now. The experience was part tactile, almost like the feeling of the air getting denser, and part visual. Not quite like seeing, but like a black-on-black phantom image hovering in front of him. "Sorry Foggy, I think that was more like fifteen actually. You should get you eyes checked." He smiled toward Foggy who had found a spot right in front of him in line.

"Hey, I told you I wasn't any good at it. I was never any good at geometry either." Foggy bent down and picked up two red trays, and put napkins, silverware and a plastic cup on each.

"Wait, Foggy. You don't plan to eat with me every day, do you?" Matt reached out and checked the location of everything. "I kinda need to know where things are."

"Oh, sure." That seemed logical enough

"Thanks for waiting." Matt grabbed the edge of his tray and pushed it along, following behind his roommate to the cash register. There was no one ahead of them and the eyes of the people behind him were burning holes in the back of his head.

"No problem, buddy." Foggy looked from Matt to the cashier who looked about as old as the university itself. "I'll have the burger with fries please. And a coke."

"Oh, the soda fountain is over there." The woman nodded towards a spot further down the counter. "That'll be four dollars." She smiled as she took Foggy's five dollar bill and handed him the change. "How _nice_ of you to take such good care of him."

"_What?_" Foggy glanced over at Matt who looked mildly annoyed. She probably meant it as some kind of weird complement, but it seemed like a bizarre thing to say.

"I'll have the same. Thank you." Matt felt his jaws tighten, and entertained a brief fantasy of ripping the woman's head off. Which he knew he probably could have. He took out his five dollar bill and handed it to her.

Foggy moved a few steps further along the counter to where the food was being served. He didn't quite know what to say to Matt. "Wow, that was weird."

"Yeah, it happens all the time." Matt felt his blood pressure slowly drop back down to normal.

"She's an idiot." Foggy didn't even care if the woman heard him or not.

"Yeah, well, here's our food." Matt could smell their burgers from the kitchen, but waited until the plates were placed on their trays to comment on it. They actually smelled really good which lightened his mood just a little.

"I'm getting soda. What do you want?" Foggy wasn't sure if this qualified as helping too much, but at this point he was really anxious for them to get out of there and find a seat.

"I'll have a Coke too. Thanks."

"Coming right up." Foggy got their drinks and looked around the room once more and was relieved to find a table that wasn't too far from where they were standing. "Okay, I think I just scored us some seats."

"Okay." Matt was still annoyed and didn't exactly feel like hiding it. He took both his cane and his full tray in his right hand and put his left on Foggy's shoulder. Another little concession to appearances, even though it wasn't completely unwarranted with the amount of people in the place. Big crowds had a tendency to blend together, and with all the commotion going on he wasn't even sure which seats Foggy was talking about.

Foggy put his tray down on a round table, hoping that the sound it made was enough to let Matt know where it was. He pulled out a chair and sat down as he watched Matt put his food down and then feel around for the back of the chair across from his before finding it and taking his seat. "So Matt, what classes are you taking?" Part of it was curiosity to see if they were taking any of the same courses and part of it was a desperate need for something to talk about.

"Well," Matt bit into his burger and tried to chew it down quickly as he kept talking, "I'm taking French for my foreign language requirement. Then there's World History 101, some social studies class I can't even remember the name of, and English lit."

"You registered already?," Foggy said with his mouth full. The burger was everything he'd hoped for and more.

"Yeah, I had to. You know, with my being all 'special' and everything." Matt smiled at the idea of telling them all about how very special he really was. "I need to have books transcribed and that takes about a two or three months apparently so I'm pretty much stuck with what I've picked. How about you?"

"I was going to take English lit and World History too, but I don't know about the rest. I haven't decided yet. I guess I'll have to look into what the requirements are for different majors, but I guess we're not supposed to declare one until later so we'll see."

"Yeah, well they seem to have a lot of really fun classes here so I don't think that's going to be a problem." Matt took another bite from his burger and picked up another couple of fries from his plate. He'd never really been heavily into the greasy stuff but the food was surprisingly good. "So Foggy?"

"Yeah?"

"I never asked. Where are you from exactly?" Come to think of it, Matt wasn't sure he'd mentioned where he was from either.

"Long Island." Foggy said it without any trace of enthusiasm. "Have you ever been there?"

Matt laughed at the absurdity of the idea. He'd barely left Manhattan growing up. "No, I've never really been anywhere. My dad didn't exactly have the kind of job that came with benefits and vacations. I'm from the city. Hell's Kitchen."

"Wow, that's a pretty rough neighborhood, right?" Foggy had already figured out that they didn't have a lot in common when it came to socio-economic background, and what Matt had just said confirmed it.

"Yeah, probably not the nicest place. It's home though and I like it. And the school I went to was okay too, even though people probably don't expect that from a lot of inner city schools."

"So you went to just a regular school then?" Foggy had no idea how these kinds of things worked.

"Sure. Hardly anyone goes to schools for the blind anymore."

"So do you know anyone else here from high school?"

"It was a pretty big school so there might be a couple. None that I know of though. Most of the people I went to school with had no intention of going to college anyway. So, you're pretty much the only person I know around here, which is a little pathetic considering I only met you this morning." Matt smiled in Foggy's direction and wiped his hands on a napkin.

"Well that makes two of us then. Those friends of mine, the mathletes, are going to MIT. All three of them, if you can believe that. I don't know anyone here. It's nice in a way, though. It's like getting a fresh start."

"So how come a nice guy like you wasn't more popular? You're not horribly disfigured or anything are you?"

"Well, actually I am. I guess I should tell you that I asked specifically to be paired with a blind guy for that reason."

"Well, see that's what I mean. You've got a great sense of humor and everything."

"Thanks. And I'm not really disfigured. Just so you know."

"Yeah, I figured as much." While Matt couldn't really make out his face, he could tell that Foggy was a few inches shorter and quite a few pounds heavier than he was. His senses also told him that he wasn't exactly athletic either and not what one would consider jock material.

"It's not… I wasn't a misfit or anything, I was just never very popular. A little too much of a geek, I suppose. Not like you."

"What makes you say that?" For most of high school Matt had moved in circles that weren't exactly top tier in the coolness department, but not far from it. Which in turn was a big step up from the bottom of the playground hierarchy where he'd spent most of his childhood; but he was still a little surprised that someone would consider him even remotely cool.

"It's just the feeling I got. You just seem cool, really confident and everything. I've never been that way." Foggy was surprised to find himself having a real heart to heart conversation with someone he barely knew, but there was something about Matt that made him oddly accessible.

"What you don't know is that I was bullied for being a complete geek all through elementary school."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know." Somehow what Matt was saying made Foggy feel even more inadequate. His life had been a smooth ride, with enough money and a good family, and he'd never actually had a particularly hard time in school either. He'd never been treated badly, he'd just been invisible.

"Hey, I'm glad you think I come across as confident or 'cool,' whatever that really means, because I suppose that means I must be doing something right. But I don't think confidence is something you're born with, you just have to decide who you want to be and not let other people tell you who that is. I don't think you're a geek. Besides, just so you know, I doubt myself all the time. Who doesn't?" On some odd level there was something comforting about having Foggy be envious of him, especially with some people openly telling him that they'd rather be dead than actually _be_ him. Though why they found that to be an appropriate thing to say, he'd never know.

Foggy didn't know what to say so he didn't say anything. He knew Matt was right, though. In a way, not challenging how other people perceived you was plain lazy, because as annoying as labels were, they were also quite comfortable.

"Foggy?"

"Yeah?"

"You still there?"

"I was just thinking that you're right. That and how I'm basically just a whiny little kid without any real problems."

"Hey, everyone's got their own problems. I'm actually glad you want to me talk about it."

"You are? Why?"

"Because I'm more used to people telling me that I remind them of how fortunate they are. As if whatever problems they might have must be a walk in the park compared to the problems they think _I_ have. So thanks for not treating me like my only purpose in life is to walk around and be some kind of inspiration so that other people can feel that their own lives suck a little less." Foggy was being honest with him, so Matt decided that he might as well return the favor. He'd never talked to anyone about these things before, and the way it came out might have sounded a little harsh. For a second he regretted saying anything at all. The last thing he wanted was for Foggy to think he was bitter about it when that really wasn't it. He just occasionally got sick of people acting like complete idiots, and he liked to think that he would have felt the same way even if life hadn't served him his disability with a huge side order of bizarre abilities.

"You're welcome? I guess." Foggy didn't quite know what to say, and he was pretty sure telling Matt that he understood why people might feel that way wouldn't be particularly helpful. "I can see why that would be annoying though. I mean, to have people think like that."

"Don't get me wrong, most people are cool, but there are a lot of morons out there. First there are the ones who like to go on an on about how _brave_ you are, and then there are those who just think you're stupid. And some people, although this is actually pretty funny, get a little confused about the whole blind versus deaf thing and just start talking really loud."

"_Really?_ How do you get _those_ two confused?"

"I have _no_ idea." Matt shook his head, his smile gradually turning into just a hint of a laugh. It really _was_ kind of funny. Annoying but funny. Especially considering that he just might have the best ears on the planet. He could hear a whisper from two blocks away.

"Well, thanks for the advice though. I'm just going to have to decide who I want to be first, but I'll get back to you on that. I've been thinking of joining a fraternity actually."

"Really?" Matt was a little surprised that Foggy was the fraternity type. Although maybe he wasn't, and this was just his way of reinventing himself.

"Oh, just to meet people and be a part of something. You're not into that?"

"Fraternities? No, I don't think that's really my thing. I might consider looking into some clubs though."

"What kinds of things did you do in high school?"

"Well, let's see. I was on the debate team, the Honor Society, and… Well, things like that mostly, and a couple of clubs. See how all this makes me kind of a geek too?"

"Yeah, I guess. But I was in the band, you can't really beat that."

"Oh I don't know. I also used to tutor some of the kids at the elementary school, but that was mostly 'cause it was required for Honor Society. I'm not exactly Mother Theresa."

"Okay, suddenly I'm coming off as cool here." Foggy laughed and looked over at Matt who seemed to be thinking something along the lines of 'I told you so.'" But how do you…? No offense or anything, but how do you help kids with their homework when you can't see it?"

"Oh, I'd help with reading mostly, and then they would just read what was in the book. For the most part, if they got a word wrong I could usually figure out which one it was. If not, or if they got completely stuck on something, I would just have them spell it. And it was at the school so there were always other people around to ask, just in case."

"Didn't they ever just make stuff up?" Foggy remembered all the fun his class had had back in grade school every time they had a substitute teachers so kids pulling pranks was hardly a foreign concept.

"Actually, a couple of them tried, but let's just say that I'm extremely hard to fool. I don't think most of the kids would have had the guts though. My dad's a boxer, so I know a thing or two about intimidation."

"Oh, so you can pull off cool _and_ scary." Foggy didn't doubt it for a second.

"Oh, I can do scary. _Believe_ me." Matt gave Foggy a cryptic smile and finished the last of his Coke.

"Are you ready to head back? I'm all done; the food wasn't that bad."

"Yeah, let's get out of here." Matt wiped the last bit of grease off his hands and got back up.

"I'll get our trays." Foggy moved all of Matt's things over to his tray and stacked them on top of each other. "What time does the orientation start?"

"Oh, right. _That_ thing. I can't believe I almost forgot about that. Well, it's probably not something we want to miss unless we want to walk around clueless for the next four years. I think it's at three, but I didn't bring the paper with me."

"Three sounds about right. I think it's in the main auditorium, but maybe we should just follow where everybody else is going. I've found that to be a good strategy."

"Then let's just hope they don't all go jump of a cliff or something." Matt got the idea that Foggy considered himself more of a follower than a leader, but there was something about him that told him that there was much more to the guy than met the eye, metaphorically speaking.

"Well, I haven't seen any cliffs around here, but I'd think twice about jumping off one."

"That's good to know." Matt grabbed Foggy's arm but let go of it as soon as they were out on the open floor, walking next to him until they reached the front door. He stopped outside for moment, soaking in the sun and enjoying the relative quiet. He listened as Foggy took a few more steps until he noticed that Matt wasn't coming.

"So, I'll meet you back here in an hour then?"

"What?"

"I'm kidding. It just didn't look like you were coming any time soon."

"Oh, I'm coming. I'm just taking a minute. It's really nice here, don't you think?"

"Yeah, it's nice." Foggy wondered for a second if Matt was going to go weird and deep on him.

"You know, I think we're going to do okay here."

"Yeah, me too. So are you coming? We have to be at that thing in twenty minutes."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Surprisingly, most of the other freshmen were even later in making an appearance at the orientation which translated into a couple of front row seats for the two of them. The seats quickly filled with people as it got closer to three o'clock and some were going to have to stand. Foggy looked around the room, half-scanning it for anyone from his old school. There were paintings featuring severe-looking men, and an occasional woman, on the walls and up front was a big podium complete with a speaker's chair and a large white screen which looked like a temporary set-up.

Meanwhile, Matt was secretly checking out the girl next to him. He felt the heat from her body, which he knew to be a tall and slender one, and inhaled pieces of her with every breath. He listened to her heart skip like a little bunny. He'd dated in high school but had never been particularly forward with members of the opposite sex. He wasn't shy, but so far, he had never aggressively pursued anyone. Matt had no plans of starting now, but tried to figure out a way to at least introduce himself.

"Foggy, " Matt whispered in his roommates direction, leaning over as close as he could.

"What?" Foggy whispered back even though he didn't understand why they were whispering. It wasn't as if the orientation had started already.

"Don't look now, but the one next to me, is she cute?" Matt could sense that Foggy was being a good boy, he wasn't looking yet.

"Are you going to make a move on her or something?"

"No, I was just thinking that maybe I should talk to her. We're supposed to be making friends here, right?"

"But you only want to make cute friends, is that it?"

"Okay, so maybe I'm a little superficial."

"But you're blind, why do you care?"

"I know that probably doesn't make any sense to you, but I'm curious. Come on, give me a break."

Foggy leaned forward inconspicuously and glanced over to the girl next to Matt. She _was_ cute. Not gorgeous, but very charming. "Yeah, she's pretty."

"I thought so." Matt smiled to himself and decided to try a little trick he'd used on occasion, though he couldn't believe anyone actually fell for it since he was pretty sure he would have known that the seat next to his was occupied even without hyper senses. He carefully put his hand out to the side as if checking to see if it was empty and landed it on a cashmere-covered arm. He quickly withdrew it and turned towards her, centering his gaze on where he knew her eyes to be. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, uh, put my hand right there."

Foggy looked over at the scene to his left with a mix of fascination and disbelief. If this actually worked, it meant that rooming with Matt might actually mean a much needed injection to his own love life as well. Still, he had to really try to not spontaneously shake his head at the whole thing. He watched as the young woman quickly looked from her arm to the guy on her right and blushed. Judging from how her expression changed slightly within a matter of seconds she seemed to go from 'oh my god, he's really cute' to 'oh my god, he's blind' and then to some compromise of conflicting emotions while trying to figure out which mattered more.

"Oh, that's okay. I guess I was just being too quiet."

"I didn't know you were there…" Again, Matt couldn't believe people actually fell for that one, but she didn't seem to think anything of it. "So I guess you're new here too?" Okay, Murdock, he thought to himself, what kind of lame line is _that_? It was almost as bad as 'haven't I seen you somewhere before?,' which in his case could double as a blind joke.

"Yeah, I'm from Michigan so… Anyway, I just got here yesterday."

"Well, in that case you're a day ahead of us. I'm Matt, and this is my roommate Froggy"

"It's _Foggy_. Nice to meet you." Foggy stuck his hand out and made a silent vow to hit Matt over the head when they got back to their room.

"Hi, I'm Helen." She shook Foggy's hand and then Matt's. "Nice to meet you."

Matt could feel her blush and heard her heart beating like crazy. Though whether she was just nervous or if was a reaction to either one of them was a little hard to tell. "So where in Michigan are you from?"

"Grosse Point."

Foggy let out a chuckle and Matt immediately stuck his elbow in his side. "Hey Foggy, that's a real town you know."

"Yes, I _know_ that. I'm sorry Helen, I didn't mean any disrespect."

"That's okay. I know it's kind of a funny name. Froggy, was it?" She shot him an amused glance.

Suddenly the crowd settled down as someone, presumably a university administrator, walked up to the microphone. When he turned it on the feedback sent out a loud shrill which was painfully loud in Matt's ears, and he had to bite down hard to keep from letting it show on his face.

"Hey, Matt, it's starting." Foggy looked over at Matt who had a very tense look on his face.

"I kind of got that." Matt's ears were still ringing.

What followed were ninety minutes of solid information on everything from meal plans, class registration and student organizations mixed with self-congratulatory speeches about the grand history of the university and how fortunate they all were to have picked this particular school over all others. Matt seriously contemplated taking a nap during the slide show segment, but just let his mind wander instead. He was quickly snapped back to reality when the whole auditorium suddenly got up and started heading for the door. Apparently, that was the end of the slide show, and the whole orientation. The world's best ears didn't help when your mind was somewhere else.

"So, Matt did you learn anything new?"

"I think they covered most of this in the packet, right?"

"Yeah, I think these things are mostly for people who don't read what's in the packet."

Matt noticed Helen was gone and searched for her briefly, using every sense at his disposal. He couldn't find her. She had either left the building or was lost to him in the crowd. "Where did she go?"

"Oh, Helen?" Foggy looked around. "Oh, I see her over by the front door."

"That's probably because you laughed at her home town." Matt knew there might be lots of different reasons for her to split like that, but he liked some better than others.

"Speaking of which, why did you call me _Froggy_?" Foggy had almost forgotten about that, but was glad that Matt had reminded him, whether he intended to or not.

"I didn't mean to, I swear to you," Matt said, laughing. He was actually telling the truth, but that didn't mean he didn't enjoy his little slip of the tongue in retrospect. "I was going to say 'Franklin' and then I changed my mind, and decided to go with 'Foggy.' It came out 'Froggy' by accident, I promise."

"Okay, I believe you." It sounded like a plausible explanation and Foggy knew that Matt wouldn't make him look bad on purpose. Not after the talk they'd had earlier. "Let's get out of here."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

There was a pay phone out in the hall with a chair next to it. With his cane leaning against the phone, Matt put a few quarters in, dialed the number, and sat down when he heard it ringing.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Dad? It's me"

"Hey Matty, how are you doing?"

"I'm doing pretty good. Me and Foggy had lunch after you left and then we went to the orientation. We just got back. How are things back home?"

"Same as when we left this morning, I suppose. But it's a little empty here without you."

"I bet." Jack sounded a little down and Matt didn't really know what to say to cheer him up. He was going on to bigger and better things while his dad was just going home to an empty apartment. "Maybe I can come home for the weekend in a few weeks, if you'd like."

"Don't you be doing me any favors, kid. You'll always have a home here, you know that, but you go ahead and have fun with your new friends. I can handle things around here."

"I know dad, but I… If you want to come visit or something, that's totally okay."

"I know, son. I might take you up on that one of these days. So how is that roommate of yours?"

"Oh, we're getting along. He's really nice, I think we're going to be friends."

"Is he good about helping you out?"

"Dad…" Matt sighed a little then smiled as he added, "Yes, I've trained him well. We walked all over campus today so I know where everything is. You don't have to worry."

"Hey, I know you can take care of yourself. You've just gotta know when to ask for help, is all. It's nothing to be ashamed of that you can't see."

"I know that. And he's good about it."

"Yeah, well if he wants to play for the other team… I don't have to like it, but whatever floats his boat, I suppose."

Matt couldn't believe it. "Dad, he's not _gay_. Gee.

"You sure about that?"

"Yes, very sure. I wouldn't care, but he's not."

"If you say so. You got any plans for the evening then?"

"I don't know yet. There's not much going on until tomorrow, so I guess we'll get some pizza and watch TV or something."

"I bet he's gonna be real surprised with you hogging it."

"Come on, Dad. I do _not_ hog the TV. There are only like two shows a week that I want to see, you always get to pick everything else."

"I know son, I'm just teasing."

"Well, now you can watch whatever you want."

"I'd rather have you here, but I'll settle for what I can get. Now, I don't want to waste all your quarters. If you get the number I can call you next time."

"Well, there's a phone line in our room and we were going to go buy a phone for it later. I don't know the number, I'd have to ask Foggy. How about if I call you Saturday or something?"

"That works out fine. And Matty?"

"Yes, Dad?"

"You know I'm real proud of you, right?"

"Dad…"

"How smart you are and how well you're doing with everything. I know you think I worry too much, but I know you've got some good things ahead of you."

"Thanks, I hope so." His dad didn't talk like that very often. He was the kind of man who let his fists do most of the talking. "I love you too."

"Now, you take care of yourself and don't get into any trouble."

"I won't. Bye."

"Bye, son."

Matt hung up the phone, and sat back down. His dad wasn't very far away, and he'd seen him that same morning, but there was no doubt about it. This was the end of an era for them. He got back up and walked diagonally across the hall to their suite. He opened the door to his room, where Foggy was stretched out on the bed. "Foggy?"

"Yeah, I'm here. Did you talk to you dad?"

"Yeah, he seems to be doing okay. I think he's starting to feel it though, that I'm not coming back."

"My parents don't even seem to care. But maybe that's just 'cause they still have Candace to pester them."

"Who?"

"My sister. She's twelve. I actually think they're relieved that there are only half as many of us now. She's going to be a nightmare when she hits her teens. Probably a good thing I got out when I had the chance."

Matt laughed a little and shook his head. "And you said your life wasn't interesting."

"Well, I guess that depends. If living with a sister who's like that kid from the Exorcist is your idea of fun, you can have her."

"That bad, huh?" Matt sat down on his bed and rubbed his eyes under his glasses. He was thinking about whether this would be a good time to take them off. He decided to just do it, and not care if Foggy got spooked. He'd get over it. Putting them on the night stand, he looked back up at Foggy. "So Foggy, what do you want to do tonight?" He noticed his friend's heart beat pick up a little, and then fall back down again, a reaction Matt knew to interpret as surprise, but nothing more.

"Maybe we could call for pizza later. I'm still full from lunch."

"Yeah, it's only five thirty. Is the TV hooked up?"

"I think so. Why?"

"Okay, this is a little embarrassing, but would you mind if we watched Law & Order at nine? I never miss it. But, I mean, if you want to watch something else that's fine."

"Oh, sure. I like that show too." Foggy looked over at Matt. That guy was certainly full of all kinds of surprises. He didn't even know blind people watched TV.

"Great." That was the only show he watched every week, and with his dad not being a big fan he usually had to watch it alone. That made it hard to follow sometimes, but he did okay for the most part.

"I have a VCR too, if you ever want to rent a movie or something."

"Yeah, I'd like that. We don't have a one at home, which probably makes me seem dirt poor."

"So what kind of movies do you like?" Foggy was already guessing that Chaplin was out of the question.

"Oh, I don't know. I don't have any favorite genres or anything. I'm not crazy about action movies, it's just noise and too little dialogue. Aside from that it depends on the movie. I like a little bit of everything. I really liked Silence of the Lambs. Maybe that makes me twisted, I don't know"

"No, I liked that one too."

"Oh, and you know for sure that you're not twisted?"

"Yes, I'm pretty sure." Foggy smiled and looked over at Matt who was now lying on his side with his head on his pillow. "I'm not nearly interesting enough to be twisted."

"What do you mean you're not interesting? Besides aren't all serial killers usually the ones you'd last suspect?"

"Yeah, I guess you're right. So, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"So in the future… Let's say you're a big successful lawyer with tons of money. What would you do with it?"

"Wow, that's a tough question. I have no idea. I'd probably give _some_ of it away, maybe get a nicer place for my dad. For myself, I don't really know. I think I'd like to travel maybe. I've never been anywhere."

"So where would you want to go?"

"I guess I'd like to go to Europe and travel around a bit. I took French in high school, so I might as well use it, right? And Japan maybe. Have you ever been overseas?"

"Yeah, a couple of times with my parents. I went with my dad on business to London one time, and we all went to Paris last summer."

"Now I'm officially jealous." Matt tried to imagine what Paris was like, hyper-senses style. He'd already stopped thinking about places in strictly visual terms. "What did you do there?"

"What, in Paris?"

"Yeah."

"We walked around being your typical obnoxious Americans. My mom even wore a fanny pack, can you believe it? We did all the touristy stuff, the Eiffel tower, the Louvre… Things like that."

"I think I'd probably skip the Louvre. I'm pretty sure they have a strict no touch policy." Matt smiled at the idea of being dragged away by security guards for feeling up that Nike statue. "So did you see the Mona Lisa?"

"Yeah, it's so much smaller than you'd think. And I still don't get what the big deal is."

"That's why you have all those art historians. So you can have someone tell you what you're supposed to be thinking when you see it."

"Otherwise they'd all be unemployed, I guess."

"I think most of them are actually. That's why we're picking a major that makes sense, right? Besides, I'd be the world's worst art historian."

"I'd have to agree with you on that one. No offense."

"None taken."

"So what's the farthest you've been from Hell's Kitchen?"

"I've never been out of the state, believe it or not. Well, unless you count New Jersey."

"I'd say New Jersey counts if you've been farther than, say, Newark."

"Well, I haven't so it doesn't count."

"No, I guess not." Foggy smiled and took another look at Matt. He thought that for someone who'd lost his sight in an accident, his eyes didn't look all that bad. They were a little pale and obviously scarred, but there was nothing particularly creepy about them. They were out of focus, as if he was looking at something about two feet in front of him, but Foggy didn't find that particularly unnerving. But, he could see why some people might feel differently.

"You know what we should do?"

"What?"

"Maybe we should see what everyone else in the hall is up to or at least go around and say hi or something." While Matt had never been shy, he wasn't a particularly outgoing either. But he knew that people were often hesitant about approaching him, which sometimes forced him to be the one to make the first move.

"Yeah, I guess that might be a good idea." Foggy knew that Matt was right, but it wasn't something he would have initiated on his own.

"So how many people live in this hall, do you know?"

"Oh, eight rooms times two. Sixteen people?"

"Okay," Matt sat back up again and grabbed his glasses from the night stand, "let's go."

"What? Wait, what are we going to tell everyone?"

"You're right, this _is_ a delicate matter, we should plan our approach carefully," Matt said jokingly.

"Well, we should at least have a plan, right?"

"How about this? We knock on the door, introduce ourselves, get their names. And I totally like that this is a co-ed dorm, don't you?"

"What, so you can do that trick again?"

"I can't keep doing the same one over and over, that's a little too transparent. I have a few other ones up my sleeve though."

"Really? Like what?" Foggy was intrigued.

"Well, the misplaced hand trick has many different variations to it, and then there's the one where I pretend to trip on something and maybe inadvertently bump into someone. But on purpose."

"Wow, you're terrible, you know that?"

"Hey, people are impressed that I can even walk a straight line so why shouldn't I use that to my advantage?"

"I guess."

"So are we going or not?" Matt got up and felt around for Foggy's hand, pulling him out of bed. "Did you make your bed?"

"Yes, mom."

"Hey, don't give me that. Come on, let's go."

"Fine."

"Okay then." Matt straightened out his T-shirt and got his cane from its new home in the corner by the door.

"All right, I'm coming."

"Foggy, if you don't want to do this, just say so."

"No, I think it's a good idea. Really, I do."

"It's just… I'd hate having to spend weeks not knowing who people are because they're avoiding me. Some people do, believe me. So it's just better if I make the first move."

"I understand."

"You do?"

"I think so."

"Okay, so you're ready then?"

"No, but let's do it anyway."

"Good Foggy."

"Did you just say that because it rhymes with 'good doggy'?"

"Maybe."

"You're mean."

"Well, you have a funny nickname." Matt reached for the door and opened it. There was no one in the hallway so their neighbors were either in their rooms or out roaming around.

"Just don't call me Froggy again. I'm afraid it might catch on and then I'll have to change schools."

"I won't, but you have to tell me sometime where you got that name." Matt started walking toward the end of the hall, stopping when he got to the first door next to theirs. "Okay, whose room is this."

"I don't know."

"It doesn't say? Didn't we have a note on our door?"

"They must be returning students or something."

Matt knocked on the door while taking in a whiff of air. This was either Eric's room, or he had been there recently. There were people in the room, but with their encounter having been as brief as it was, he wasn't sure if either of the heartbeats belonged to Eric. Foggy's heart, on the other hand was beating out of his chest. As the door opened, Matt knew for sure that it was Eric, and within seconds, he was accompanied by someone else just behind him. "Oh, hi. We're… Well, I'm Matt and this is Foggy, and we have the room next to yours so we just thought we'd come by and say hello."

"Hey, we met before in the elevator."

"Oh, right. I recognize your voice, don't really do visuals though obviously. Eric was it?"

"Yeah, that's right." Eric took a look at Matt who wasn't holding his hand out and turned to Foggy instead to shake his.

"Foggy, hi." Foggy took a look at the two guys in front of him while feeling his confidence melt away. They both looked like they played on at least a couple of sports teams and they were quite obviously upperclassmen. He thought about what an odd pair he and Matt must seem to them. Some blind-as-a-bat redhead and his porky sidekick.

"Mark." Eric's roommate took a look at the two figures in the hall and threw his roommate a quick glance. The blind guy had a suave and confident air about him, but the chubby kid looked like a deer caught in headlights. When both of them put their hands out, Mark made a quick judgment call and shook Matt's first and then Foggy's.

"Wow, freshmen with initiative, I like that," Eric said, adding "we're taking off in half an hour, but why don't you guys come in for a few minutes." He noticed his roommate shooting him one of those looks that would have killed if it could have, but decided to ignore it.

"Are you sure? We didn't mean to barge in on you or anything." Matt could tell that Foggy was uncomfortable and that Mark didn't seem to love the idea either, but Eric seemed nice enough, and it was only for a few minutes.

"Totally. So, you need some help?" Eric looked at Matt who was feeling for the door frame with his cane.

"I'm assuming you're talking to me, but unless your place is a complete junk yard, I'll be fine. Thanks." Matt briefly focused on his radar sense to get a decent feel for the place before slowly letting go of the shadowy phantom images it gave him.

"No," Eric said, stepping out of the way as Matt maneuvered past him, "our mothers would be proud. Right, Mark?"

"Yours would. I don't know about mine." Mark shook his head at the whole thing, quickly looking at his watch to determine just how long they'd be stuck with these people.

Foggy followed behind Matt who had stopped in the middle of the room and didn't look as if he knew what to do next. "So do we sit down or something?"

"Yeah, just grab a seat on the couch. Do you want something? We have some Sprite in the fridge."

"Sure, thanks." Matt sat down on the couch that occupied the same area in this room as theirs did next door. He moved to the side to make room for one more, leaning his cane against his shoulder, and Foggy sat down next to him.

"Foggy… You want something to drink too?" Eric had already opened the fridge and taken out a few cans of soda.

"Uh, sure, if it's not too much trouble." Foggy was still not comfortable even though he had to admit that Eric seemed really nice and actually quite sincere in making them feel welcome.

"No problem. Let's just say that I remember what it was like to be a new student around here. Besides, I like to know who my neighbors are." Eric looked at Mark who was finally looking a little less displeased.

"He would take in stray dogs too, if he could. This guy here is like Mother Theresa or something." Mark considered Eric a good friend, but they were very different when it came to the whole social outreach angle.

Matt asked, "So what year are you?"

"We'll be seniors this year." Eric handed both cans of soda to Foggy who in turn gave one to Matt. "I'm pre-med and Mark here is a political science major. So what's the deal with you guys?"

"The deal?" Foggy wasn't sure he had a 'deal.'

"What brings you here, why did you pick this school, how many brothers and sisters do you have…? That kind of thing. Pets, favorite TV shows… Your deal."

"Well, I got a full scholarship to this school so that pretty much sealed it. That and the scenery." Matt smiled as everyone just sat quietly. "That last part was a joke."

"Wow, that's impressive." Eric opened his can of Sprite and took a sip. "How did you manage that?"

"I had no social life?" Matt took a sip of his own drink, suddenly realizing just how parched his throat was. "No, it was mostly hard work, I guess. I don't come from money so…" Matt didn't really mean anything by it, but judging from the others' reactions he figured that he might have said something he shouldn't have. While he'd never defined himself in terms of social class, he knew that he was in the minority at the school who came from a working class background. "And I'm an only child with no pets. Since you asked."

"Well, my dad went to school here, " Foggy started, "so I guess that was it. But I like the scenery too." He glanced over at Matt, suddenly feeling like the two of them were a team in a way.

"Very cool." Eric nodded, while taking another look at his new neighbors. "Well, you guys are totally gonna love it here, this place rocks. Right, Mark?"

"Yeah, it… I guess it rocks. So you guys just moved in today, or what?" While Mark didn't share his roommate's enthusiasm for new recruits, he wasn't going to give the newbies the impression that he was anti-social.

"Yeah, we both got here around noon." Foggy was trying to think of something interesting to say, but drew a complete blank.

"So, what's there to do around here?" Matt asked.

"I don't know. What are you into?" Eric could think of quite a few things, but wasn't sure what someone like Matt would be able to do.

"Is the gym any good?" Matt was sure they were both regulars, and he hadn't had the chance to check it out yet.

"The gym totally kicks ass, they have everything," Eric said as Mark nodded enthusiastically.

"Okay, I'm definitely going to have to check that out then. And, is there a debate team?" Matt would have loved to be able to do sports in high school. If he had decided to be open with what he could do, and if something could have been done to alert him to visual markings on the field or court, he was sure he could have excelled at all of them. But the way things were, he'd gone out for the debate team instead, which really wasn't a poor second choice. Not only was he quite good at it, it was actually a lot of fun.

"Man, that's funny," Mark said laughing. "Eric here is captain of the debate team!"

"That's great! Do you have try-outs or how does that work?" Matt couldn't believe what a lucky coincidence this was.

"Yeah, we have try-outs. Are you any good?" Eric didn't want to sound like too much of a skeptic, but he was pretty picky about quality. They had a good team and he didn't want to see it go south on his watch.

"We had a good team in high school and I was the best person on it." Matt suspected what might be the source of Eric's skepticism and added, "I've never had any problems connecting with the audience if that's what you're worried about."

"No, no, I'm sure you're good. You're more than welcome to have a go at it." Eric sincerely hoped he hadn't come across as a total ass. "I've got some info here, if you want it," he said as he stood up and grabbed one of the print-outs he was going to plaster all over campus next week.

"You wouldn't have it in Braille by any change, would you?" Matt asked jokingly.

"Sorry man, maybe next year."

"That's okay, thanks." Matt smiled and held his hand out to take it. "I'm sure I can bribe Foggy to get him read it.

"I've never been bribed before, what are you offering?" Foggy was curious to hear what Matt might say. Not that he'd have to bribe him into doing it.

"How about if I do your laundry for the next two weeks? I can't guarantee your whites will come out white, but I'm sure you don't mind pink underwear, right?"

"Hmm, how about I just do it for free?" Foggy smiled and made a mental note to keep Matt away from his laundry.

"Well guys, I hate to kick you out, but we need to roll. But there's this party Saturday night that we're sort of co-hosting, if you want to go."

Foggy couldn't believe it. They had just been invited by older students to go to a party and it hadn't even been twelve hours since they arrived. "Sure, we'd love to! Right, Matt?"

"Yeah, that'd be great!" He hoped his lack of enthusiasm wasn't too noticeable. It wasn't that he didn't want to go, it was just that it was pretty unavoidable that it would be socially awkward, head-splittingly loud and just generally disorienting. But there was no way he was going to let Foggy down.

"Okay, I'll give you the details tomorrow." Eric quickly glanced at Mark who didn't look happy at all.

Once they were out the door, Matt could hear what Mark was saying to his roommate. It wasn't nice. Something about a "freaks and geeks quota." He was grateful Foggy couldn't hear it. "Okay, Foggy who's next on our list?"


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Twenty minutes later, they had introduced themselves to everyone except the people right across the hall who weren't home yet. No one else had invited them in and most had done nothing more than shake hands and give their names. The very same names Matt and Foggy were now doing their best to try to remember.

"Molly was really nice," Foggy said as he closed the door behind him, trying to sound casual about it.

"Well, I guess I should tell you that I happen to know she's got a boyfriend." Matt smiled at the memory of the conversation she'd had with her mother earlier.

"I didn't mean anything by it, I was just saying she's nice."

"Yeah, she is." Matt went over to the sink and turned the water on while opening one of the cabinet doors and looking around for a glass with his left hand. "You want some water? I'm thirsty as hell."

"No, that's okay. Thanks." Foggy considered offering to help Matt find what he was looking for, but decided not to, and within a few seconds he seemed to be finding it okay by himself. "How do you know she's got a boyfriend?"

"Oh, I was standing behind her when Dad and I picked up the key. And, the boyfriend seemed to be the big topic of conversation between her and her mom." Matt filled up his glass, keeping one finger hanging over the edge to check where the water was. As with so many other tasks, there were usually several ways of doing something. He could have used his radar sense, though the water had significantly less definition to it than the glass, or he could have listened to the sound of it going in. Using his heightened senses to "cheat" was a luxury he often enjoyed, but there were many situations when using a blind technique was both quicker and easier, and pouring cold liquids was one of them.

"Oh yeah, she said something about meeting you in the elevator." Foggy took a seat in the armchair and put his feet up on the coffee table

"Yeah, we did. About the boyfriend, it sounded pretty serious. Romeo and Juliet serious, if you know what I mean." Matt turned back around and leaned against the counter, looking in Foggy's direction.

"What, you think they've got some suicide pact or something?"

"Well, technically Romeo and Juliet didn't exactly have a suicide pact. It was really just a big misunderstanding."

"Right, he thought she was dead so he killed himself. Then she woke up and licked the poison from his lips or something. Who knew death could be that romantic?" Foggy heard Matt laugh as he was moving behind him and then sat down on the couch.

"Romantic? Seriously? The scary thing is that they were supposed to be like sixteen or something."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I heard that somewhere. So, I guess Molly's not exactly Juliet, but she seemed pretty heart-broken about the fact that he was going to some other school. So I guess that if you want to break them up, you've got your chance now that he's not around."

"Oh, please. I just said she was cute." Foggy was a little embarrassed by the fact that Matt seemed to be reading him like an open book.

"No, you didn't. You said she was nice." Matt fought hard trying to restrain the big grin on his face.

"Oh shit. I'm busted, aren't I?" Foggy smiled too as he felt his cheeks heat up. "She wouldn't go for someone like me anyway."

"Why not?" Matt could guess pretty well what the answer was going to be, but he really wanted to hear what Foggy had to say.

"Well, I... I guess you wouldn't know, but I'm not much to look at."

"Wait a second here," Matt started, trying for a joke, "I thought you said you weren't disfigured."

"I'm not. I'm just not the kind of guy who would hang out with a girl like that."

"So, what does she look like?"

"She's really pretty."

"How?" Matt was suddenly curious. Aside from a person's overall shape, his idea of what someone might actually look like was vague, at best.

"Blond hair, big blue eyes. A small nose, I guess. But I don't really know how to explain what she looks like. I'm sorry."

"Hey, don't be. I know she _smells_ good. So what's our take on the twins?"

"George and Steve?" Foggy briefly thought back to the first people they had met after leaving Eric and Mark's. Those guys were really something else.

"Yeah, just don't tell me they were wearing matching outfits too." Matt smiled at the memory of them almost finishing each other's sentences. They seemed to be eating the exact same food as well, challenging even his ability to tell them apart by scent, even though there was still a very subtle difference between them.

"Well, here's the funny part," Foggy started laughing, "they actually were wearing identical shirts, just different colors."

"That's pretty funny. They've probably had a color assigned to them since they were babies or something. Why do parents do stuff like that? Don't they realize it's totally going to screw up the kids?"

"Because they think it's cute?"

"But it's not, it's creepy. Why would you want to go through life being just a half of a pair?"

"I don't know. It wasn't their choice, I guess."

"So what did their place look like?"

"Like your side of the room."

"So does that mean they're blind or just really anal anyway?"

Foggy smiled and shook his head. "The latter. Definitely."

"Well, that makes sense, I guess. What were they? Sophomores?"

"Yeah."

"So what was the name of Molly's roommate? Amanda something?"

"I think so, yeah. Then there were Junko and Alyssa, Chelsea and Brittany, Andrew and Mario, Mike and... What was the last guy's name?"

"Oh, you mean Mr. Sweaty Palm?" Matt smiled and raised his eyebrow.

"That's pretty harsh." Foggy had to admit that Matt did have a point though. Besides, that sweaty palm probably comprised a fairly large portion of his impression of the guy since he couldn't see him.

"Yeah, my bad." Matt was wracking his brain for the guy's name. He was very good at recognizing people. Much better than people expected, and he usually gave his memory for different voices the credit when people asked, even though that was far from the whole truth. Unfortunately, recognizing people didn't automatically translate into being good with names. "Gunther."

"What?"

"That was his name, right?"

"Oh right, I thought it was something that sounded German."

"He had a bit of an accent too, did you notice?"

"Yeah, I did. So Gunther from Germany, huh?"

"He could be Austrian, you know. Or Swiss..."

Suddenly there was a loud double knock on the door, taking both of them by surprise. Matt could always hear when someone was in the hall whether he wanted to or not, but because people were coming and going all the time, it was hardly worth paying attention to, and he hadn't noticed anyone stopping outside.

"I'll get it," Foggy said as he rose to his feet and walked over to the door. When he opened it, he laid eyes on someone they hadn't encountered on their tour of the hall. She had dark curly hair and an enormous, eager-to-serve kind of smile.

"Hey there! Would you be Franklin or Matthew?"

"I'm Franklin... Foggy. That's Matt," he said as he stepped away from the door and nodded in Matt's direction."

"Excellent! I'm your residency advisor. Can I come in for just a couple of minutes? Or I could just come back later if this is a bad time."

"No, that's fine. Right, Matt?" Foggy looked around at his roommate who had gotten off the couch and was coming toward them.

"Oh sure, we were just hanging out. I'm Matt," he said as he put his hand out. It took a while before their visitor had rearranged the things she was carrying and was able to extricate her right hand to shake his.

"Nice to meet you! My name is Ellie, and I live just downstairs from you guys. I'm responsible for that floor and this one." Ellie darted past Matt and Foggy through the door and unloaded all of her things on the coffee table. "Can I take a seat?"

"Go right ahead," Matt and Foggy said in unison as they walked back to the couch, Matt letting the back of his hand lightly touch the television set when he felt the mass of it to his right. It was a gesture that was equal parts pretense, and tactile reassurance.

"Okay! Well, I'm the person to go to first if there's any sign of trouble with anything having to do with the social situation here or if there's anything else going on with the living arrangements. I'm also responsible for making sure that the residents abide by the rules. I'm not exactly the police or anything, but if I see something that needs to be reported I'm obligated to do so."

"So, we should stay on your good side then?" Matt flashed her a crooked smile.

"Well, I'd prefer it if you see me as someone who can help out with things, not your mother. But the rules do need to be followed."

"What are the rules exactly?" Foggy asked

"First there are obvious things like being courteous to your fellow residents, keeping your living quarters in a reasonable condition and keeping the hallways clean and free of clutter. We don't want anyone obstructing the fire exits, if you know what I mean." Ellie laughed while writing something on a piece of paper. Matt and Foggy were both wondering why that was funny, though it might have been some RA in joke.

"Also," she continued, "no drugs, no alcohol and no smoking. If you smoke, you need to take that outside, but we have a zero tolerance policy for the drugs and the alcohol. Anyone over twenty-one can do whatever they want outside this building, but we can't have any of that here. Are we clear on this?"

"Sure, absolutely," Foggy nodded in agreement.

"Another rule is that there are no pets allowed. Of course, guide dogs are fine," Ellie said, looking at Matt.

"I don't have one." Matt listened to Ellie write things on a pad, curious about what she was taking down. Maybe just things for the S.H.I.E.L.D. file he briefly imagined she had on them in the basement somewhere.

"Okay, that's good news for the people with allergies!" She laughed again, quite inexplicably, though it was more of a giggle this time. "So, about this building, have you guys had a chance to look around?"

"No, not yet. We've just been up and down the hall," Foggy said.

"Well, we have quite a few amenities here. Here in the hall, there's a communal lounge area for socializing, which is definitely something to be encouraged. In fact, we're putting together a movie night for Sunday evening so people can get to know each other. There's also a larger kitchen over there. In the basement, there's a bigger rec room, a small weight room – nothing fancy – and a computer room with four computers in it. Not much compared to what's on the main campus, but it's good for anything last minute." She paused before adding, "Matt, would you like for me to look into getting some assistive technology installed? Do you use screen readers?"

"Yeah, but don't worry about it. I'll look into it myself if it seems like a good idea. Thanks though." Matt certainly didn't want anything done about the basement situation unless it seemed like he might actually want to use it. There were places on campus he could go to use a computer.

"Oh, no problem! I guess I should tell you that I worked at this camp for teens with visual impairments two summers ago. It was such a wonderful experience!"

"Well, good for you." Matt wasn't sure what to say, and he noticed Foggy shift uncomfortably next to him. For some reason, if people he met had ever come into contact with anyone who was blind before, they always seemed to have an odd need to tell him about it.

"It was just _so_ inspirational! I'll never complain about a cold again, I'll tell ya."

"Why not? Colds suck." Matt was wondering if maybe he should have just kept his mouth shut, but he couldn't help occasionally wanting to call people on the whole inspirational bullshit.

"Uh, well... I mean, it just makes you appreciate what you have." Ellie suddenly didn't seem to know what to say, though Matt was pretty sure she didn't actually get his point. Most people didn't. "Well, I... I should get going, but I'll leave some info here on the table. Call me if there's anything, okay?"

"Sure, we'll do that," Foggy said, feeling just a little bit relieved that she was about to leave.

"Matt, can I talk to you outside for a second?" Ellie stood up and gathered up her things.

"Sure, no problem." He had no idea what she had to say that she didn't want Foggy to hear. He followed her through the door and leaned against the wall outside while closing it behind him.

"Well," she said in a half-whisper, "is he attentive to your needs?"

"Who, _Foggy_?" Matt couldn't believe his ears.

"Yes." Ellie sounded quite serious.

"Well, actually... no. That's why we're looking into some couple's counseling." Matt smiled at his own joke, but could tell immediately that it didn't go over too well. She was probably thinking that he was an arrogant jerk at this point. "Look, I appreciate what you're trying to do here, but not only have I known the guy less than ten hours, I really don't need a babysitter. It wouldn't be fair for me to expect him to be anything but my roommate. That's not how I do things."

"Of course. I understand." Matt could sense her head move in a quick nod, and she didn't sound too hurt about being put in her place. "I apologize if I overstepped my bounds."

"Don't worry about it. And good luck with the whole RA gig. We'll try not to burn the house down on your watch."

"That would be much appreciated," she laughed. "I'm still a little new to this. But really, if there's anything, let me know." She was slowly backing away, about ready to head over to the next room.

"Sure, we will. Thanks." Matt closed the door and faced the room. Foggy's heart was still beating from the couch.

"What was that all about?" Matt had a somewhat baffled look on his face and Foggy was very curious to hear what exactly couldn't be said in his presence.

"I think she just basically wanted to know if you were being a good helper monkey."

"_What_?" Foggy looked at Matt who was shaking his head in disbelief.

"Yeah, it was pretty stupid. I know she's just trying to help, but holy crap!"

"What did you tell her?"

"I said that you were completely worthless and that I wanted a replacement immediately. No, what do you think? I told her everything was fine and that she shouldn't worry about it. Really, it's none of her business."

"No, I guess not. She just seems like one of those people who just tries too hard."

"Yeah, she means well. I hope I wasn't being too much of an asshole." This time, Matt consciously registered two people out in the hall. In fact, he was pretty sure Foggy could hear them too, the walls were pretty thin. He also noticed that Ellie was standing in the doorway of the room next to theirs talking to Eric and Mark, but he paid no attention to what they were saying. "I think the missing neighbors are back."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Five minutes later, the neighbors were back with a vengeance. Both Matt and Foggy could clearly hear two girls in near hysterics outside, and they soon began to knock on the door. This time, it was Matt who went to open it. He barely got the chance to say hello before words started exploding out of the mouth of the girl on the left.

"Oh, thank God! The RA was just here, right? We saw her here in the hall just as we were getting back and we are _so_ screwed."

"Yeah, she was here. What's the problem exactly?" Matt registered that the first girl was holding something small in her hands. It appeared to be moving and he caught a whiff of saw dust and a tiny hint of what smelled like rat droppings. _Was that a mouse or something?_ "Oh, and I'm Matt, by the way."

"Oh hey, sorry about being totally rude here. My name's Sara." The words were spoken by the girl on the right who was nearly as wound up as her friend.

"Yeah, sorry. We're just panicking here. I'm Maggie and this is Goldie." Maggie put her hands out toward him and Matt could hear the small animal, whatever it was, scratch against her palm.

"Where?" Matt could hear Foggy approaching behind him, probably dying to know what all the fuss was about. "I'm blind, so if you're trying to show me something, you're going to have to be a little more specific."

"Oh God, we're so sorry. We'll just go ask someone else." Maggie exchanged a quick glance and a smile with Foggy in the background and saw Sara do an overenthusiastic wave out of the corner of her eye.

"No, wait," Matt started, before being interrupted by Foggy who was now standing next to him.

"Is that a _hamster_?" Foggy was amused to see both girls nodding desperately. They looked as if they were about to throw it at them and run away and hide.

"I'm guessing you're worried about the RA finding out, right?" He and Foggy had just heard about the no pets policy, and Matt figured that Maggie and Sara already knew about the rules but had decided to bend them.

"Yeah, if she sees her, we're going to have to get rid of her. I mean, it's just a hamster, right? So we were wondering if you could just watch her until the RA has been to our room. Please, you guys." Maggie sounded as if she was about to cry.

"Sure, we'll take it." Foggy stretched his hand out and Maggie carefully handed over the small animal. "What about the cage?"

"Oh, holy shit!" Sara said and turned to face Maggie, "we've got to go hide the cage!"

Before either Matt or Foggy could say another word, they had been abandoned on their doorstep with a small furry rodent. Foggy turned around to walk back and Matt closed the door.

"I thought they were going to bring the cage over here, not go hide it," Foggy said with a chuckle.

"That would have made about ten times more sense. Now, what are we going to do? Are we going to have to take turns holding that thing for an hour?"

"I don't know. Man, this tickles!" Foggy looked down at the tiny round face of his new furry friend who was busy trying to escape the confines of his grasp.

"Hey, can I see it?" Matt wasn't thrilled about the prospect of babysitting a hamster for any longer than five minutes, but he was a little curious about what it felt like.

"Maybe we should sit down first." Foggy was worried that one of them might drop it.

"Now, give me." Matt got back down on the couch.

Foggy carefully placed the small animal in Matt's cupped hands. "Do you have it?"

"Yeah, I've got it." Foggy wasn't kidding about the tickle and Matt suspected he might have felt it more acutely than his roommate did. "Geez, does this thing have whiskers everywhere, or what?"

"It's kind of cute though," Foggy said as he reached for the TV remote, knowing they were going to be stuck doing nothing for a while. "Well, you know, in a girlie kind of way."

"Yeah, not a real masculine pet, I suppose. You think this will ruin our image?"

"It might, if we had one." Foggy turned on the TV and started flipping through the channels mindlessly. "So, did you ever have any pets growing up?"

"No, Dad and I watched our neighbor's dog for a while when he was in the hospital, but that was years ago. I was maybe eight or something. We had it for a month. What about you?"

"Well, my mom isn't crazy about anything with fur, but they let me have a turtle for a while."

"It died?"

"No, but she found out from someone on our street that they carry diseases and stuff so she made me get rid of it."

"That's pretty brutal."

"Yeah, I know. I took me a full week to get over it." Foggy smiled as he noticed Matt laughing, though part of it could have been the hamster tickle factor. "So you never thought about getting one of those dogs?"

"What, like a guide dog?"

"Yeah."

"No. I mean, it was one of those things to be considered, but we never seriously looked into it. It's not for me. Besides, they just seem really high-maintenance."

"Yeah, I suppose you have to at least feed them."

"And let's not forget about the walking. It's not like I usually spend whole days rotting away on the couch, but I kind of like having that option. And yeah, with a cane you can just get spare parts when they wear out, make sure it doesn't look like it's been dipped in mud, and you're good to go."

"It actually wears out?"

"Oh yeah, this is probably the tenth one I've had in four and a half years, but I've grown a few inches too. And I have an extra that folds up." Matt was scratching the hamster on the head, and it seemed to have settled down. It must have been completely shell-shocked. He held it close to his ear to listen for the heartbeat, just to satisfy his own curiosity, and noticed he could hear it about two feet away. It was fast and very faint, not the loud bass drum of a human heart. "So, is there anything on?"

"What?" Foggy was keeping one eye on the TV – he had probably gone through all the channels twice at that point since they only had basic cable – and one on the little furry creature that seemed to have made itself comfortable on Matt's chest where he held it in place with one hand.

"On TV? I haven't been listening."

"Oh, the usual. Sitcoms, boring stuff. You know, maybe if you don't mind watching that thing, I could head down to the store and get some breakfast for tomorrow. I can get some snacks too if you'd like."

"Are we still getting pizza?"

"Do you want to?"

"Sure. I could go for anything, but I would be nice not having to make something."

"Okay, we'll call when I get back. If we're lucky, they may have picked up the hamster by then."

"I wouldn't count on it," Matt half-yelled at Foggy's back as he headed out the door. Matt could hear Ellie making the rounds and knew she had at least three or four rooms left before Sara and Maggie would be in the clear and could come back to pick up their animal. Though why they didn't just bring the cage over was beyond him. This was starting to get ridiculous.

Eager to kill some time, he carefully transferred Goldie to his right hand and felt for the remote on the table. It would take some experimenting to figure it out. The '5' button was easy to find because it had a dot on it and that meant the other number keys could be quickly located. The volume and channel buttons turned out to be a little larger than the rest and he decided to browse through the channels to find something to watch, and settled on a World War II documentary on what he guessed might be PBS. Most documentaries were easy to follow since they had a narrator, thus effectively limiting the slight annoyance he sometimes felt when he knew he was missing something. With all the things he could perceive with his heightened senses, watching TV was generally far down the list of favorite activities, but most people seemed to be in love with that thing and hanging out with friends often meant slouching in front of the tube.

There would be no slouching this time, however, because the second he found himself beginning to relax was the same moment Goldie decided to make a grand escape. Matt felt the soft fur sliding past the inside of his palm, but didn't quite realize what was happening until the hamster's clawed feet made a scratchy impact with the corduroy of the sofa cushions. _Okay, nice and easy._ He allowed himself to panic for only a split second before trying to decide on a strategy. If she decided to jump down another step, she'd be loose on the floor, making the job of trying to rein her in all the more complicated. He listened for an exact location and focused on his radar sense which painted the small animal as a roundish hazy speck about a foot to his right.

For the moment, she was sitting still, and Matt carefully put his hand down on the fabric and began to inch up on her. Trying to grab her quickly would probably fail. He was fast, but most animals seemed to be faster and it was better to get close before going in for the kill. Just as he was about to snatch her, she quickly darted off in a new direction, and he felt her touch his hip right where he was sitting before she seemingly disappeared. But he could still hear the scratch of tiny feet, and the sound seemed to be coming from underneath the cushions.

For some strange reason he came to think of Stick. _What would Stick do?_ Matt could hear his old sensei's voice in his head, pushing him to focus on the task at hand, but couldn't help laughing at himself. More than likely, if Stick had been there, he would have shaken his head and walked away in disgust. That made Matt question once more why Stick had decided to leave so suddenly, but he pushed that thought aside. At the moment, there were more immediate concerns.

He listened past the sound of bomber planes coming through the loudspeakers on the TV, the loud and steady hum of the refrigerator, the bass of rock music from a stereo on the floor above and the rise and fall of cars coming and going outside. The furry pixie-sized monster, the one adversary for which his long hours of ninja training seemed to have left him completely unprepared, moved along the lower edge of the cushion, communicating her exact location through the sounds she made. Matt was wondering how much pressure he could apply to the top of the cushion to keep Goldie in place without killing her. Handing over a flat and lifeless hamster wouldn't exactly help with their reputation in the building.

He got down on his knees on the floor and gave the cushion a squeeze as he leaned over. Goldie had almost made it to the corner. If he could keep her there, immobilized, he could stick his hand in and grab her. He listened carefully and found that she had stopped moving and made some kind of squeaky sound, almost like a mouse. He listened even harder and found her heartbeat, though he had to really concentrate in order to hear it. At least she was still alive and kicking. Well, perhaps not kicking as much as breathing. He slowly squeezed his hand between the cushions and began to inch up on the her, though her routes of escape were effectively cut off this time. He felt her nose, but didn't have time to grab her before he felt her bite his finger. Hard. "Damn you!"

Matt quickly withdrew his right hand while still keeping the cushion in place with his left. He could smell the metallic tinge of blood, and taste it as he put his finger in his mouth to keep it from getting anywhere else. He suddenly realized that he had no idea what color the couch was, but he hoped it wasn't a light color, in which case he worried there would be a visible smear on it from when he pulled his hand away. "You little fuck," he said, this time hearing his dad's voice in his head, telling him to stop swearing. "You busted my finger, and I kind of need that." He felt it start to throb and decided to switch hands, holding his wounded index finger against his palm in a vain attempt to keep the blood from getting on the fabric while pushing down. He reached in under the cushions with his left hand this time, and tried to grab Goldie from behind, now that he knew which way she was facing. He felt a wave of relief as he managed to tighten his grip around her and pull her out. "Bad hamster! Very bad hamster!"

If Goldie looked the least bit guilty over what she'd just done, Matt wouldn't know it, but he seriously doubted it. He carried her with him over to the kitchen sink and turned the water on so could rinse off his finger. It was hard to tell exactly how bad it was, but it felt pretty deep and he knew he was going to have to put a band-aid on it. Fortunately, classes didn't start until Monday so having to read one-handed for a couple of days wasn't too much of a disaster. "I'm sure you're really cute and everything, but I really don't like you right now." Goldie responded with a high-pitched hamster sound while being carried into the bathroom where Matt got some toilet paper to wrap around his finger until he could find a better solution.

Foggy came in the door five minutes later, just as the man on TV talked about Albert Speer's post-war plans for Berlin. "Hey," Foggy said excitedly, "I got us something." He put the bag on the table and threw a box over in Matt's direction, landing it next to him on the couch.

"Okay, first of all, get this animal away from me." Matt held Goldie out in front of him with his good hand so Foggy could grab her.

"What happened to you?"

"She bit me!" Matt decided not to include the part about her escape.

"What? This little cutie?" Foggy took a closer look at her and noticed a small red stain. "Oh, that explains why there's blood on her."

"Damn, I didn't even think of that. Is it bad?" Matt suddenly felt a little embarrassed about not noticing. Not that anyone would have expected him to.

"No, there's just a little bit." Foggy got some water on his hand and just washed it off. It looked fine.

"Did I get any on the couch?"

"No, it's fine. Was it that bad?"

"Yeah, I think she got me pretty good. I need a band-aid or something."

"You want me to go look for one?"

"Okay, thanks."

"I think I saw a first aid kit in the hall. I'm going to have to give her back to you though."

Foggy gave Goldie back to Matt who seemed more than a little reluctant about taking her.

As expected, there was a small rack attached to the wall at the far end of the hall stocked with band-aids, gauze and some printed instructions on how to perform CPR. Foggy dearly hoped he would never have to be resuscitated by someone who had to read the instructions off a brightly colored laminated chart. He grabbed a couple of band-aids and almost ran into Ellie in the hall as she was leaving one of the rooms. They just exchanged the kind of forced smile that sometimes passed for a greeting, and he was grateful he didn't have to explain what the band-aids were for. There was no way they were taking the fall for the heinous crime of keeping an illegal hamster. Foggy sneaked back in the room. "Hey, Matt. I found some. Just so you know, they're on the wall at the end of the hall."

"Thanks, that's good to know." Matt handed Goldie back and felt Foggy place a couple of band-aids in his hand. He inspected the damage with his other hand before putting one on. Now, that was much better than toilet paper.

"Okay, now open the box."

What is this?" Matt felt the smooth surface of cardboard box. It was glossy, but had something printed on it. Maybe he could have gotten at least something off of it, if he'd tried.

"Open it." Foggy sat down and watched as Matt pulled out the item inside and ran his fingers over the surface.

"You got us a phone?"

"Well, you know. We were talking about hooking one up, and they had this down at the drugstore. It was only ten bucks so I got one. I hope this one's okay."

"Yeah, this is great. Now it's only a matter of time before the ladies start calling, right?" Matt said jokingly

"Hey, maybe we'll meet some at the party. That was real nice of Eric to invite us, by the way. He didn't have to."

"No, he didn't. You think there will be other freshmen there?"

"I hope so. It's nicer when you're not the only one feeling like you don't know what the heck you're doing there."

"No kidding. Hey, you know what we can do with this box?"

"What's that?"

"Get something sharp and poke air holes in it. I'm sick of watching that thing."

"That's not a bad idea," Foggy said, grinning.

Twenty minutes later, Goldie has been returned to her rightful owners who seemed a little baffled to find their pet confined to a dark cardboard prison, but they didn't say much about it. Ten minutes after that, their large pepperoni pizza arrived. It was the result of the first phone call made on their new phone.

There was certainly something to be said for an evening of Coke, tons of melted cheese and a mindless hour of television. When Law & Order finally came on, it didn't take long for Foggy to find the right balance in just how much extra information to give Matt so he could follow along without including every detail. A few references here and there was all it took.

When ten o'clock rolled around, Matt said what both of them were thinking. "Wow, I'm so beat."

"Yeah, me too. And way too full."

"That too. I'm usually never tired this early. I guess, it's been a pretty intense day."

"Yeah, you got bitten by a hamster and everything."

"Really, you move out and the first thing that happens is that you get tetanus from a hamster bite. What are the odds? I think my dad was always more worried that I'd get hit by a car or something, but this is a perfectly respectable way to go, right?"

"I really don't think hamsters carry tetanus. Rabies, _maybe_."

"Rabies? I'm not liking the sound of that at all. I'd rather have tetanus, I think."

"Well, you've had all your shots, right?"

"Yeah. Besides, I'm sure they gave me a booster shot when I had my accident. But that's kind of a blur, so I don't really remember. Lots of shots. It really makes you appreciate drugs though. I can see why people get addicted to that stuff."

"So this was four years ago?"

"Yeah, March, 1988."

"So, what happened exactly?"

"Okay, the short version? I pushed this old guy out of the way of an oncoming truck."

"You _what_?"

"He was about to be run over and I don't know what I was thinking, but I just had to save him. You know? So I sort of got hit instead. It wasn't the truck, there were these barrels filled with some pretty nasty stuff on it and when it swerved, one of the barrels came loose and broke against the sidewalk. I got some of it in my face and, long story short, my eyes don't work anymore."

"Did the old guy make it?" Foggy almost couldn't believe what Matt was saying, and he found it hard to breathe.

"Yeah, he was fine. But hey, don't worry, they gave me a medal and everything." Matt tried to be flip about it because he could tell that Foggy was uncomfortable.

"That's just not fair." The whole idea of what had happened to Matt bothered Foggy in a lot of ways. Life wasn't supposed to work like that. People who did good things, weren't supposed to be punished for it.

"Maybe not. I don't know. There's no point in dwelling on it. It happened, I can't change it."

"But still. That sucks."

"Yeah, it did, but I meant what I said about not feeling bad for me. Sure, there are times when I wish I could see, and when you can't it's a major pain in the ass sometimes, but I've learned to live with it. I don't know if it's something about how people work, but I know for a fact that you can get used to almost anything." Matt didn't mention the part about how his heightened senses had almost been more difficult to adjust to than the loss of his sight, and he still found them overwhelming at times. Along with the memories of colors which had already begun to fade, he wasn't sure he could truly remember total silence anymore, other than as a vague state of pleasant nothingness.

"I'm not sure I could."

"That's what everyone thinks before it happens, but what other choice do you have?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm just saying that there's really no other option except dealing with it. Doing things, and hanging out with friends, or even getting bitten by a freaking hamster is a hundred times more fun than just sitting around moping. I think I'm generally a pretty happy person. My life isn't perfect, but there's no reason for anyone to feel sorry for me."

"I just can't get over how you saved someone's life. This happened to you because you did the right thing. Weren't you ever just really angry at that guy for being in the wrong place?"

"Well, I was angry about some things for a while, but I don't think I was ever angry at him. The real irony is that he was blind too."

"Who? That old guy?" Foggy just realized that if there was a God, he must have a very strange sense of humor.

"Yeah. That's pretty weird, huh?"

"That's crazy."

"So, no. I wasn't angry at him. He obviously had no business being out in traffic if he couldn't handle it, but it wasn't his fault either, and he never asked me to save him. _I_ decided to play the hero."

"But at least they gave you a medal, huh?"

"Yeah, a few months later, after I finished rehab. They did a whole ceremony, it was even in the paper."

"I bet your dad must have been proud."

"He was. I think he was pretty angry about the whole thing for a long time though. We were never able to get any compensation from the trucking company or anything, that just went south, and then I think he was also just really worried about me. But that just made me work extra hard."

"So he wouldn't worry?"

"Well, the whole thing must have just been eating away at him. I think he took it harder than I did. I mean, you know how parents are, right? I know he would have traded places with me if he could have. His life changed too, it wasn't just me. So I think I wanted to spare him in some ways. When I was frustrated or sad about something, I tried to not let it show around him so much."

"That must have been hard. I think I probably take all my stuff out on my parents. We've never fought a lot, but it's like you feel you can afford to be a jerk sometimes because you know they love you anyway."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. Normally, I'm like that too, but this was just so different. I felt like I had to show him that I was doing really well to keep both of us going. I lost it a couple of times, though. But I took most of it out on various instructors and rehab counselors. I'm sure they've had worse, but I wasn't a perfect saint all the time."

"Somehow, that's a relief to hear."

"You think I'm being too much of a saint?"

"Well, you did save a guy's life, right?"

"Yeah, I guess. Anyway, I just hope I was nice to them more often than not. It was just that it felt liked they asked you to do all these things that seemed completely crazy and unreasonable."

"Like what?"

"Well, like after my first Braille lesson I was pretty much convinced that there was no way in hell I was ever going to learn that stuff. But I did, obviously. Even though it was a real bitch. Now I'm really good at it. Or, at least I was until that stupid hamster decided to chew on my finger." Matt jokingly held up his bandaged right index finger.

"Oh, I didn't even think about that. Bad hamster!"

"I know, that's what I said. But, it'll be fine by Monday, not biggie."

"What happens if it's not?"

"Oh, I can read with one hand, it's just not as fast."

"Okay. That's good." Foggy felt his eyelids start to get heavy, and the sun had already set outside. "I think I'm getting sleepy."

"Me too." Matt yawned and took his glasses off, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand. They tended to get dry and itchy sometimes, a minor side effect of having being doused with a radioactive and corrosive substance once upon a time. There were eye drops for that, but he was usually too lazy to bother. "I think I'm going to go to bed. But we should get all this put away first." He reached for his glass and the big pizza box.

"It can't wait until tomorrow?"

"I prefer to put things back right away so I don't forget anything. If that's alright with you?"

"Sure, that's fine." Foggy suddenly realized that the tidiness of Matt's half of the bedroom would have to spread to the shared areas as well. His parents were going to be really impressed with the place when they came to visit, Foggy was sure of that.

"I can do the dishes if you put the rest of it away." They had eaten straight out of the box so there were only a couple of knives they'd used to cut through the cheese that always seemed to hold the slices together, along with two drinking glasses.

Within ten minutes, everything was cleaned away and they were both in bed. Matt was exhausted. The day had seemed to last forever and he couldn't believed he had woken up in his old bedroom just that same morning. The memory of it felt so distant. Before he dozed off, he heard Foggy snoring. It wasn't too bad. At least it had a steady rhythm to it. Rhythms, he could deal with, it was the unstructured noise that really got to him. Rhythms, he could fall asleep to. And before long, he did.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

There was always a moment before he was fully awake, where everything seemed almost quiet. It only lasted a second or two, maybe even less, but Matt always noticed it as he braced himself for the impact of a whole world of sounds and odors pouring into his brain, undiluted. It wasn't usually painful, but it was always intense. He registered a jackhammer pounding cement two, no three blocks away, the sounds of morning traffic outside and the indistinct murmurs of dozens of voices coming from inside the building. It was always like that, like the air was dense with sound, always vibrating. Pushing its way into his brain. Matt could even hear the blood rush through his head, making a sound akin to that from a sea shell held close to the ear. All these noises were like a bizarre form of tinnitus; usually much more useful, but equally aggravating at times. He had learned to control it, to an extent. What was left, he had just learned to live with. Almost fully awake, Matt suddenly felt completely out of place. _Where was he?_ It didn't smell like home and it didn't sound like home either. A sudden spike of adrenalin fueled his radar sense, pushing his spatial perceptions outward like a rapidly inflated balloon until he suddenly remembered that this wasn't home. He was seventy blocks from Hell's Kitchen and next to him, about six feet away, lay his new roommate. Foggy was still sleeping. He wasn't moving and his breathing was slow and deep. _What time was it? Did the alarm not go off?_ Rather than push the talk button on the radio and risk waking Foggy, Matt felt for his wrist watch on the night stand. Laying his head back on the pillow he checked the time. It was just a minute shy of seven o'clock, and as if on cue, the radio came alive and started spitting out music. _Two Princes_ by the Spin Doctors added to the cacophony of sound that invaded his world with such force and Matt pulled his pillow out from under him and put it over his head.

"You too, huh?" Foggy was still groggy from waking much too suddenly, but he couldn't help smiling a little at Matt on the other bed hiding under a pillow that seemed much too small for its intended purpose.

"What?" Matt could hear his own muffled voice make its way through the soft downy pillow and, feeling a little silly, he removed it and steered his eyes over in Foggy's direction.

"I hate that song too." Matt looked pretty tense, but Foggy was relieved to see a smile forming.

"Yeah, it's _really_ annoying." Sitting up and putting his feet on the floor, he added, "Man, I forgot where I was for a moment. And I had the weirdest dream, too. It was something about… Wow, I can't remember now." Matt shook his head a little, which helped clear a few more cobwebs. The noise had settled somewhat and he started feeling more relaxed. He had an appointment in an hour and a half, and he had decided to give himself thirty minutes to get there. That left about an hour to shower, get dressed and find something to eat.

"Yeah? Well, I dreamed that my sister Candace ran away and joined a cult. Which isn't as far-fetched as it sounds. I could totally see her do that, just to freak out my parents." Foggy noticed Matt smile a little bigger and watched as he got up and walked over to the dresser, holding his hand out just a little as he got closer. He had promised Matt he wasn't going to feel bad for him, and with time he probably wouldn't think about it much, but he couldn't help wondering what it was like to have to do everything without seeing. Matt made it look easy, but the whole concept seemed pretty daunting.

Matt pulled out the top drawer, and felt around for one of his newer t-shirts, from the last of his rare shopping sprees. They were a little more fitted that what he'd worn growing up, and his dad hadn't hesitated to voice his skepticism of the latest fashions, but Jessie and her friend Anna had assured him that he looked good. He knew they weren't lying and he actually preferred the fabric a little less loose.

Foggy didn't really have to be anywhere at any particular time that day, but he decided that it would be rude to stay in bed and let Matt have breakfast by himself, and he even considered offering to walk with him. "So, when is your meeting?"

"Um," Matt quickly checked the labels on two of his shirts, trying to decide whether to go with green or red before remembering to answer. "It's at eight thirty. I figured I should have enough time if I leave at eight." He put a red t-shirt on his bed along with a clean pair of jeans, and pulled a towel from the second drawer. It was clean, but it still smelled like the old apartment, and Matt couldn't resist holding it to his nose and breathing in. He wasn't exactly homesick, he was excited about being out on his own, but there was still a lot of comfort in that scent.

"I could go with you… I mean, if you want. I'm up anyway and I don't have anything better to do."

Matt stopped halfway out the door on his way to the bathroom, "I appreciate the offer, really, but I think I'll be okay. I'm giving myself extra time to ask for directions, just in case, but I don't want to put you out."

"Oh, you wouldn't, honest…" Foggy noticed that Matt was hesitating, and he almost expected him to take him up on the offer.

"Yeah, but I kind of need to do things like this for myself. It's a stupid pride thing, I know, but I hope you understand." Matt knew that taking Foggy along would probably be faster, if only just a little. He knew exactly what building he was going to, but he had never been inside it, and not being able to easily read signs and other forms of directions was something of a complicating factor in new places. But he wasn't lying about the pride thing. As much as he didn't like asking for help he really didn't need, it was nothing compared to how much he didn't like asking for it when it actually made sense. "Well, anyway… I'm going to go take a shower. But thanks. I might take you up on it some other time, okay?"

"Sure, I understand." Foggy wasn't going to push it. Besides, this way he could actually go back to bed after breakfast which seemed like the kind of luxury he wouldn't be able to afford once classes started. Then he might see if there was anything on TV before taking a stroll around campus to check out the social scene. Maybe Matt would like to come too.

The sound of the shower made the world seem smaller, in a really good way. The roar of the water bouncing off him and the tiles masked a lot of the background noise and it was like being rolled up in a blanket where he could be temporarily cut off from the world outside. After about ten minutes, Matt decided that he'd been enjoying this moment to himself a little too long. After all, he didn't know if there would be enough hot water left for Foggy. Then again, this place probably had better heating resources than his old apartment.

Foggy had decided to get to work on getting breakfast ready while Matt was in the bathroom. Considering they hadn't been to the supermarket yet and his trip to the mini-mart down the block only had some milk, instant coffee and a box of Cheerios to show for it, preparations only took about a minute and consisted of putting out bowls, spoons and coffee mugs, and placing the box of cereal squarely on the table. He turned on the TV while waiting for the water on the stove to boil, flipping through the channels until he settled on The Today Show where Willard Scott was delivering his typical upbeat weather forecast. Though Foggy didn't need a weather man to tell him that today was going to be a great day. From what he'd seen peeking out his window that morning, there wasn't a cloud in the sky.

As Matt walked back to the bedroom wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, he noticed Foggy suddenly sitting up a little straighter on the couch, his weight shifting audibly against the texture of the fabric and his somewhat nebulous form tugging on Matt's radar sense. "Is that water boiling?"

"Oh, yeah… for the coffee." Foggy rushed over to the stove and turned it off, he had barely heard it himself, as Matt slipped into the other room, emerging only a minute later fully dressed and with his glasses on.

"You know, we should have gotten some OJ too, this is pretty pathetic." Matt sat down and reached for his bowl. "Did I get a spoon too?"

"It's right th…, I mean on the left… no, right. Your right, my left." Foggy caught himself blushing just a little.

"You're just deliberately trying to confuse me, aren't you?" Matt smiled at Foggy while fishing the spoon off the table.

"Yeah, I guess so, sorry about that… Did you want some coffee?"

"Wow, full service. Are you trying to spoil me too? Sure, I'll have some. But we're seriously going to have to get better coffee, I'm not sure how long I can stand the instant stuff."

Foggy quickly made two cups of coffee and put them on the table, relieved to see that Matt was finding his okay. "It's rat poison, I know. So how long do you think you're going to be? I mean, do you want to meet afterwards or something?"

"I really have no idea. I've never been to one of these things before. I don't see how it could take more than maybe forty minutes or something. Why, did you have anything in mind?"

"Well, I thought we should go check out different clubs and stuff. And I was thinking I should look into that thing I mentioned about maybe joining a fraternity." Foggy knew Matt wasn't into the whole Greek thing, but he wanted to take a closer look for himself and at least get some idea of whether there were any nice ones.

"You know what? This is probably really silly, but I'd like to get one of those shirts that say Columbia on them." It seemed like something of an unnecessary expense, but Matt hoped it might make him feel a little more like genuine university property.

"Sure, we could go to the campus store too. That might be fun." Foggy put a spoon piled high with milk and cereal in his mouth while watching Matt fill up his own bowl. Having only spent less than twenty-four hours with him, Foggy had yet to get over the fascination of watching Matt do stuff. It usually wasn't exactly how a sighted person would do it, but it seemed to get the job done.

"So, what's happening in the world?" Matt asked as he nodded toward the TV behind him.

"Oh, the usual… election coverage. That Ruby Ridge thing. That was pretty bizarre…" Foggy hadn't really paid much attention to the TV and those were the only stories that came to mind.

"Yeah, I know. So… Who are you going to vote for?" They had already discussed things that were much more personal than politics, so Matt figured it might be okay to throw it out there. "I mean, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Clinton, I think. You?"

"Yeah, same here."

"My parents are completely sold on Ross Perot. He looks like a leprechaun if you ask me."

"So, I've heard." Matt scooped up some of his cereal and took a reluctant sip from his coffee cup. It almost burned on the way down. "He sounds like one too."

"Yeah, I guess he does, now that you mention it. I mean, except for the accent."

"Well, he's certainly not Irish. Takes one to know one."

"I figured Murdock was Irish."

"It's the English spelling, but yeah. And that pretty much sums up everything I know about the family history, incidentally. My dad's never wanted to talk about it much."

"Why is that?"

"Well, it's his dad. They never got along. I never met my grandmother until after he died because dad didn't want to go. It was three years ago I think, four at the most. I don't remember exactly, but it was after I lost my sight. Anyway, most of the family moved to Brooklyn at various stages. I have an aunt that still lives in the Kitchen that we see a couple of times a year, but I really don't know any of my other relatives."

"What about your mom's side?"

"That's a definite no. Dad talks about her sometimes, but it's usually just something about what she would have thought about something I've done, or he might say that I remind him of her. That kind of thing. But to me… She's like a ghost. It's hard to imagine that she was a real person, you know."

"Yeah, I guess. Well, if it makes you feel any better having lots of relatives can be a real pain. Mine don't get along either, but that doesn't stop them from insisting on spending time together. That's what I like about friends. At least then you have a choice."

"But not when it comes to roommates, right?" Matt smiled jokingly. Despite their different backgrounds and personalities, Matt had come to like Foggy quite a bit already, and he suspected the feeling was mutual.

"Thank God. What if I had picked a total jerk without even knowing it? I mean, you can't always tell right away." Foggy was actually relieved that he didn't get to choose, now that all was said and done. He didn't think of himself as having prejudices toward anyone, but he doubted he would have actually chosen someone with a disability if he had known about it. Which seemed really stupid in retrospect.

"Well, I'm glad to hear to you don't think I'm a jerk. I promise to try to behave." Matt paused briefly, and then went for a change of subject. "So, can I ask? What meal plan are you on?"

"Um, the one meal per day. Why?"

"Me too. I was just wondering since… I was going to try to save money by cooking a lot myself, and I just wanted to know if you want in on that? We could just shop for two, and then split the bill. Maybe take turns? I like going out, but I can't afford to do it very often." Matt felt embarrassed asking about it, but he couldn't match the budgets of most of his fellow students, and he knew it.

"Oh, sure. That sounds good. I hadn't thought that far ahead actually. But we should split the chores too. I can only cook mac and cheese, though. If you want, I could do the dishes maybe?"

"Either way is fine by me." He hoped his relief wasn't too noticeable. "So you think maybe you could come with me to the store later? I might need some help. You know, just the first couple of times. Besides, I don't even know what kind of food you like."

"Yeah, sure. There's a really big one across the street, we could go this afternoon if you want." Foggy figured that showing some fiscal responsibility might earn him some respect in his parents' eyes, and he really didn't mind at all.

"Okay, great. That's one less thing to worry about." Matt smiled while pushing his chair back. He got up and took his things over to the sink, pouring most of the coffee down the drain. "I'd better get going, what time did you want to meet later?"

"Pick a time and place, and I'll be there."

"Okay, how about ten o'clock by the steps outside the big library? Like I said, it probably won't take very long, but just in case. I've got this book on tape I can listen to, kill some time if I have to."

"Ten is good." Foggy watched Matt walk into the bedroom and come back out again with a backpack and his cane in hand.

"Okay, I'm off. I guess I'll see you in a couple of hours then." Matt quickly found the door and opened it.

"Bye, see you." Foggy's eyes wandered from the closed door back to the TV where Katie Couric was exchanging witticisms with Bryant Gumble. He finished his soggy cereal and went for a refill. He had two hours to just sit around and do nothing and he was going to enjoy it. He got a refill of his coffee, which really wasn't _that_ bad, and moved over to the TV. He was just getting comfortable when the phone rang. He didn't know anyone had this number. He didn't even have it memorized himself yet.

"Hello?"

"Frrranklin? It's your mother."

_Damn it. Rosalind…_

Out in the hallway, Matt noticed immediately that he wasn't alone, but he decided not to pay any attention to it and started walking toward the elevator.

"Hey Matt, wait up!" He recognized her, but couldn't remember the name. His confusion must have either been apparent or she had the good sense to provide more information on her own. "It's Sara."

"Oh, right. Sorry. I remember your voice but I couldn't quite place you. You're the hamster girl." He smiled a little at how that came out and hoped she didn't mind. Meanwhile she had caught up with him and he resumed his walk to the elevator, staying close to the wall.

"Oh, God! That was _so_ embarrassing. Thanks for helping us out. You know, it's not even my hamster. It's my roommate's. Besides, it's over a year old and will probably die any second, so we're not really breaking the rules that badly, right? I mean, it's not like we're getting a new one after this one dies. At least I hope we're not… Oh, shit. I should totally tell her there's no way we're getting any more animals. It's annoying too, just keeps running around that little wheel. " She paused for a fraction of a second to push the elevator button before going on, "It doesn't even _do_ anything. It's like having fish for chrissake. Really, hamsters are just glorified rats. Am I talking too much? I am, aren't I? Sorry, I can't help myself sometimes." She let out a nervous laugh.

"Um, that's totally okay. No problem at all." She seemed nice, if a little on the wacky side. On the other hand, Matt was more used to being deliberately avoided than assaulted with unsolicited pet talk, so he really didn't mind. "Up or down?"

"What?"

"Is the elevator going up or down?" Matt could hear it move all the way from the bottom of the building, but the bell announcing its imminent arrival had just sounded.

"Oh, that. Um, down. Are you going down? I mean, I am. Did you want to go up…?"

"No, I'm going down, I was just double-checking." Matt went in first and pushed the button for the lobby.

"Oh, I see, 'cause… Gotcha. So can you, like, just walk around all by yourself and stuff?"

Matt almost had to keep himself from smiling a little too wide. Sara obviously had the inquisitive spontaneity of five-year-old, which, quite frankly, was a lot better than people who were the complete opposite. "Yes, I can."

"Oh, that's cool. I'm sorry, was that a stupid question? Maybe…"

"No, it's okay. I don't mind. So, where are you off to?"

"I'm going out for some bagels. There's this bakery down the block. Have you been there? We went yesterday and it's totally awesome. They have these blueberry muffins with blueberries the size of… well, like friggin' golf balls."

"Golf balls, huh?" Somehow that was a little hard to believe. The car came to a stop and the doors opened to the lobby. Matt got off first with Sara right behind. The difference he felt going from a tight space to the much larger lobby was immediately palpable, and Matt pushed his radar to the max, saving himself the trouble of having to truly walk blindly to the main exit about a hundred feet away.

"Well, maybe not. Man, I hope they haven't been irradiated or anything… Maybe they're mutant blueberries or something… Anyway, you guys should totally check it out. So who's your roommate again? Froggy or something?"

Matt laughed. It was kind of funny, considering he'd made the same mistake himself the day before. "No, it's Foggy."

"What a weird name."

"Yeah, tell me about it." Matt got to the front door and stepped down the stairs out onto the sidewalk, bracing himself for the slightly dizzying onslaught of noise from the street. A car honked its horn just a few feet away, and he felt his jaws tighten. It was enough for him to lose his bearings for a second or two, but by the time he'd located the fire hydrant down by the curb, he was back in business.

"So where are _you_ going?"

"Oh, I'm just going to the main campus for an appointment."

"Wow, that sounds serious."

"It's not." As they closed in on the first intersection, he added "So, I guess this is your stop."

"Yeah… How did you know?"

Matt took in a short rapid breath through the nose. "You smell that?"

"Fresh bread? Yeah, totally."

"See? It's not rocket science." Matt smiled and gave her a little nod. "I guess I'll see you around then." He heard Sara yell her goodbye to his back, much too loudly, while he continued up the block. Right below him, a subway train sent its low rumble up through the concrete, unnoticed by everyone but him.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's note:** I'm sorry about the delay in posting this chapter. Since I'm away on vacation until Aug 16, Chapter 11 will be posted on the Tuesday after my return, on Aug 19. Thanks for reading!

**Chapter 10**

Foggy was completely stunned. How on Earth did she know where to find him? He hadn't talked to her in about a month, and hadn't seen her in at least three. "Rosalind, how did you get this number?"

"Franklin, I haven't talked to you in weeks and now you're giving me the cold shoulder. How _did_ that woman raise you?" It sounded to Foggy like she was moving papers around on her desk in the background. She was a master at multi-tasking so it didn't surprise him if she had managed to squeeze in some paperwork at the same time.

"I'm sorry, I was just surprised." What he really wanted to say was that his step-mother had actually been around to raise him, which was more than could be said for Rosalind.

"Well, we have investigators on staff so digging up a phone number wasn't hard. My nine o'clock canceled so I thought I should check in on my offspring." Most people would have used the word 'offspring' jokingly, but Rosalind Sharpe wasn't most people.

"Well, thanks. I guess." It was typical of her to use an unexpected opening in her schedule to call him. God forbid, she should ever actually purposely set something else aside.

"So how are things?" She didn't seem particularly interested and Foggy could hear her give an indistinct order to someone in the background.

"Everything's fine."

"Fine? I would certainly _hope_ so with the amount of money I'm spending on your education. Franklin."

"Well, dad is paying too." It was true that these things didn't come cheap, but from her perspective it really wasn't that much money. Either way, he didn't like being thought of as some kind of investment. "Was there anything you wanted?"

"I'm getting the distinct feeling that you don't want to talk to me. Am I _wrong_ to show a little concern for my son's wellbeing?"

"No, I just didn't expect you to call. And there isn't much to say yet. The school seems really nice, my roommate is not a jerk and we got invited to a party tomorrow night. But I haven't registered for any classes yet and I'm guessing that's what you wanted to hear about."

"Yes, well I suppose we'll have to talk more later then. I'm awfully busy with the Stetson case. I'm sure you read about it in the papers. The burden of having to deal with the rich and famous. I'm telling you Franklin, it's just not worth it sometimes." She let out a deep sigh.

"Well, I'm kind of busy right now. I'll call you in a month or so, okay? When I have something to report." Foggy knew she wanted him to ask questions about her cases. It was always that way with her. She would open up a conversation under the pretense of actually being interested in him, and then quickly turn herself into the topic of the day. He just wanted to finish his breakfast and not have to deal with it.

"A _month_?" She almost sounded a little hurt. Foggy didn't care. He admired her a great deal, but admiring people and liking them were not necessarily the same thing. "I can't help feeling that you are being a bit disrespectful here. I'm your _mother_, Franklin."

"I'm sorry. It's just that I was on my way out the door," he lied.

"All right. Well don't let me bother a busy college student with my petty concerns. Good bye, Franklin."

"Good bye, Rosalind." Foggy hung up the phone and leaned back into the couch. She was right, he had been disrespectful. She wasn't used to being brushed aside. Not by him or anyone else, and he usually didn't have the guts to be anything less than downright cordial. But talking to Rosalind never felt good. He always came away from it feeling worse about himself and he couldn't afford a dent to his self-esteem right now. Self-preservation; that was it.

He finished his coffee and went back into the bedroom to get dressed. He had finally gotten all of his unpacking done, but his half of the room still looked cluttered compared to Matt's. All the items on his roommate's desk, many of which Foggy couldn't even begin to identify, looked like they had been lined up according to a strict plan. He wondered if Matt would notice if something was half an inch out of place. As if daring himself to test that theory, he reached out and picked up a calculator that was lined up against the wall. He turned it on and pushed a number at random, almost jumping out of his skin as the thing talked back to him in a strange robot voice, despite the fact that he half-expected it to. He put it back in its place, exactly as he found it, and hoped Matt wouldn't notice he'd been poking around in his stuff.

But there was one thing that stood out; a framed photo of Matt and his dad. It struck him as odd until he realized that people usually kept pictures around as much for other people as they did for themselves. He hadn't even thought of bringing any pictures of his own family, and he suddenly thought about how absurd it would be to have one of Rosalind around. Foggy had contemplated mentioning her to Matt, especially since he had been so forthcoming about his own family, but seeing a picture of what a real family was supposed to be was enough for him to decide to just keep that skeleton in the closet. Everyone should be allowed at least one.

Matt knew Hell's Kitchen like the back of his hand. The Columbia campus was not Hell's Kitchen, which at the moment struck him as a little annoying. Remembering the right building from the day before and finding the right floor was a breeze, but once he got there, he had to swallow his pride and ask for directions since the entire floor was populated by anonymous and outwardly generic offices. Luckily, the directions were good and after reaching the end of the hall, he stepped into what immediately felt like a small room. There were additional rooms – probably offices – behind three doors. All were occupied by people typing on computers, talking on the phone and shuffling pieces of paper around. There was a foot tapping, the drawer of a filing cabinet opening and closing and what was probably a coffee machine spitting its liquid contents against the inside of a ceramic cup. It had to be coffee, the whole place had that smell to it.

He could feel a mass of something right in front of him to his right and as he focused on it, its shape immediately gave it away as a couch. There was a small table in front of it, and some kind of disturbance on the wall to his left. Was that a painting? No, a bulletin board. Definitely. He could smell the cork. This was how his world usually revealed itself to him. It wasn't like walking into a lit room, it was more like a sequential and almost instinctual process of piecing together disparate pieces of information until they made a whole. Oftentimes a very powerful whole, rich in details that others would miss or not be able to notice at all, while lacking any sort of color or contrast – a sound and scentscape draped over shapes that were perceived as differences in depth all around him.

Matt was half-considering knocking on one of the doors, but decided to sit down on the couch instead. He was a couple of minutes early and figured that someone would come out and get him when it was his turn. He reached for the cassette player in his backpack, turned it on, and tuned into a book on tape he'd been working on for the last week. He didn't really care for reading books that way, the process seemed too passive and his ears were usually taxed enough as it was without having to subject them to yet another burden. Unfortunately, Braille books were often too big and heavy to carry around, and he couldn't exactly be seen reading print. Not that it would have been his first choice anyway. It was an incredible skill to have, and a very liberating one, and he made almost daily use of it. He would sneak at peek at newspapers lying around, or read the things his school sent home that was about him, but usually addressed to his dad. But when given a choice, Braille was an obvious preference. Reading print by touch required an incredible amount of control. The amount of pressure had to be just right to pick out the information, and each movement across the page had to be closely checked so that he wouldn't lose the whisper thin line he was on and have to start over again. The amount of extra effort involved was a little too much, and the whole process a little too slow to make sense when compared to reading Braille, which had gradually become completely effortless.

After about five minutes, Matt started feeling nervous, though he couldn't quite put his finger on the exact reasons. Maybe the place reminded him too much of waiting at the dentist's, which he absolutely detested these day. There was something about the smell and all the loud dentistry equipment that made an already unpleasant activity even more nerve-wracking. When the door to one of the offices finally swung open and his name was called through the sound of the John Grisham novel he really wasn't paying attention to, it actually startled him. He must have really been on edge because very few things took him by surprise anymore.

He quickly removed the headphones, killed the cassette player and pushed it back into his backpack. "Murdock? Yeah, that's me."

"Yeah, I kinda figured. You know, with you being the only one here and everything. I'm Gina." She had just a hint of a Brooklyn accent, and sounded very nice, like she didn't take herself or anything else more seriously than what was strictly required.

Matt quickly got up and offered his hand. "Hi, nice to meet you." This was good; a positive first impression, and he felt himself start to relax a little.

"So what do I call you? Matthew, Matt? Mr. Murdock perhaps?" she asked jokingly

"It's Matt. Unless you're going to start yelling at me, in which case Matthew makes it sound like you really mean business." Matt figured he could counter with a joke of his own, and he heard the telltale signs of a smile before Gina turned around and retreated back into her office.

"Well, you just go ahead and call me Gina. I'm like Cher, but without Sonny and the fishnet stockings. Half the people I work with don't know my last name and I wanna to keep it that way." Matt followed her through the door. "Well you just go ahead and grab a seat, it's right in front of you."

"Thanks," he said as he pulled it out and sat down. His first impression of her office was that it was just littered with paperwork. Stacks of files everywhere, and big boxes on the floor.

"Need some coffee? You sort of look like it, if you don't mind the brutal honesty here."

_He did?_ Either way, the stuff they had here smelled a lot better than the instant he'd had for breakfast. "Sure, I'll have some. Black, please." He wondered where she was going to find room for his cup.

Gina returned to the desk and put his cup on top of a pile of papers in front of him, holding it in place until he wrapped his hand around it. "So," she said, pulling out a file with one hand and pushing a couple of buttons on her keyboard with the other, "my files here say that you're blind."

"Yeah, pretty much." Matt was wondering if she was kidding or if asking questions about the blatantly obvious was standard protocol.

"Hey, kid, don't worry. I'm pulling your leg here. Just checking to see if you're awake."

"Well, I am now."

"Well, first of all, welcome to Columbia. This is a great school, and I'm not just saying that 'cause they sign my paychecks and all that. And basically, my job is to make sure that if you ever decide to drop out, it won't be because of anything we did or didn't do. So any problems you might have you come to me, okay?"

"Okay."

"And I don't mean girl problems, we have other people here for that, but anything related to your disability. Hey, feel free to tell me about the girl problems too, I don't exactly frown on juicy gossip, but that's not really what I'm paid for."

"Okay, I think I got it." He smiled at her and took a sip of his coffee. It wasn't half bad.

"Well, why don't you start by telling me just a little bit about yourself, since we're going to be stuck with each other for four years. Then I'll tell you about what it is we do here."

"Okay, well…" Matt let out a sigh, and figured that he should just cut to the chase. It felt a little premature to bring up his hobbies, his dad's job or his list of future plans. "I'm from Hell's Kitchen where I was raised by my dad, and I lost my sight a little over four years ago in an accident."

"Sorry to interrupt, but you are totally blind, correct?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, go ahead. I just wanted to double-check."

"Well, I don't know what else to say about that. It happened right before my freshman year, so I missed half of the last semester of eight grade. I started school again in the fall, and it was a relatively smooth ride from there. Well, as smooth as can be expected anyway." He shrugged a little.

"How did things work out at your school? Did you have any problems with their services or anything like that."

"Everything was fine. I'm not sure they knew what to do with me at first, but it worked out great. I managed to get a scholarship anyway."

"Okay, well I'm just going to explain some things before we get into the details. The big difference between going from the regular public school system to anything on the post-secondary level is that the student personally has to request our services. We don't assess what you're needs are, you have to tell us. A lot of students aren't used to this, but it is a taste of what most things are like out in the real world. From this point forward, you advocate for yourself, there won't automatically be someone else to do that for you. You understand?"

"Yes, I think so. I know how it works." Matt wasn't really comfortable with the idea, even though it made perfect sense. It was easier to deal with needing special treatment when it just magically appeared.

"Naturally, we're available to offer suggestions, and answer questions, but we can't know what accommodations are right for you. It depends on the person as much as anything else. We all have different learning styles, skill sets and so on. Now, is there anything you're worried about?

"No. I don't know. Missing things in class maybe."

"You're probably going to notice that some classes are going to be very easy to follow. It all depends on the subject, the professor's teaching style and so on. Some subjects naturally have a lot of visual content and that will be more of a challenge, but in either case, the first rule is to talk to the professor. They have all been advised that they have a blind student in their class, but it's important that you talk to them personally. Many things are easy to fix, you just need to remind them to read out loud anything they write on the board and to describe any images they're using."

"Yeah, that's what I'm used to. I'm allowed to tape things, right?" It had been one of the options to fill out on the form, but he had the feeling there was more to it on the college level.

"It was on your form, and we passed it along to your professors who have all agreed to allow it. Truth be told, they _have_ to allow it in a case like this, but some can get a little grouchy about it, force you to sign a waiver and so on. Needless to say, you're not allowed to share or distribute these recordings in any way, and they will have to be erased at the end of each semester.

"Okay, I'm fine with that."

"Okay, next item on the list is notes. So, a request will go out to students in each of the classes you're in for someone to make copies of their notes and hand them in for us to transfer into whatever format you prefer. The recipient remains anonymous."

"Not that it's a big deal, but won't they know it's for me?"

"Probably, but it's the best we can do."

"I don't know if I'll need that for all my classes. I mean, I can take my own notes. I was thinking that it's good for French class since I don't want to get the spelling wrong."

"That is totally up to you. What I would recommend is that you start with a combination of recordings, note takers and just taking your own notes, if that's something you're comfortable with. After a while, if there's something that feels redundant it might be a good idea to drop what you don't need, and that might even vary from one class to the next. One advantage of using someone else's notes, is the fact that your professors probably will slip every now and then and forget to make a verbal reference. If you're worried about missing something, it's a good option. I suggest you start with a broad approach until you figure out what works best for you."

"Okay, that sounds like a plan."

"Next up, I just want to ask you about all the Braille material you're going to be reading."

"What about it?" Matt wasn't sure what she was fishing for.

"Well, let's just say that most students in your situation that I've come into contact with have a pretty strong preference for audio recordings over Braille, and very few can comfortably read it at the kind of speed they need to in order to cover hundreds of pages a week. I just want to hear how you feel about the course load?"

"Well, I just don't like recordings very much. And I can read pretty fast, about three hundred words per minute." Gina was writing something on a pad as he was talking and now stopped abruptly. He could tell she was looking at him.

"Are you _serious_? You're telling me that you read Braille at three hundred words per minute?" She sounded completely baffled.

"Yes. I had a friend clock me once, not too long ago. I'm not worried about not keeping up with the reading."

"You do realize how extraordinary that is?"

"Well, I don't know. I'm certainly not the only one." He did know it was highly unusual for someone who had learned late to come even close to that kind of reading speed. In his case, he was sure it was a direct consequence of his heightened sense of touch. That and a lot of hard work.

"No, I'm aware of that, but those are usually people who learned very young. Wow, can I brag about you to the other coordinators?"

"Sure, if you want to. What can I say? I'm a freak." He smiled at her, silently wondering what she would say if he told her he could read regular print at close to one hundred and sixty. Not too shabby considering it shouldn't be possible at all.

"Well, then we'll have the notes transcribed if that's what you prefer. Speaking of which, the books you ordered have been sent here to this office so remind me to give them to you before you take off. As long as your professors let us know a couple of weeks in advance, we can transcribe hand-outs as well. If you're lucky we can get them to you on the day they're to be handed out, otherwise we'll put them with the weekly load for you to pick up at the library."

"Okay, so that's where I go to pick it up?"

"Yeah, it's more convenient than having to come up here. And, besides, it keeps me out of your hair. For everything else, you're going to have to hire readers. We will pay for that as long as it's reading that's essential for your classes. If you want some hot number coming over to read love poetry we can't cover that. If it were up to me and I was Bill Gates, I'd say go right ahead, but that's not how things work. I assume you've worked with readers before?"

"Yeah, all through high school." Ever since he'd successfully taught himself to read print, about three years ago, the whole notion of having someone read things to him that he could read just fine by himself had seemed a little silly. There were plenty of practical reasons for using Braille books, but sometimes a reading job was just a few pages, most definitely within the amount he could cover without developing the tactile equivalent of eye strain. But it was one of those things he knew he couldn't reveal. Besides, it had turned out to be a good way to make friends, in high school anyway. He'd gotten to know Jessie that way.

"Well, you decide who you want to hire, and you get to fire them as well if it's not working out. So, I suggest you start putting up some notes. Let's see… What else? Right, as you know there's an art requirement as part of the core curriculum. Unless that's something you'd be particularly interested in, I'd be more than happy to waive that."

"Well, that depends. What kind of class would that be?" He'd taken art in high school without any problems, but they had let him do things that didn't involve drawing.

"Well, that's part of the reason I'm suggesting a course substitution. It's an art history course and most of it is looking at slides of famous paintings and discussing various time periods. If you're interested in taking it, we could arrange for someone to sit next to you and describe each slide. However, if it doesn't sound too exciting you might get much more out of taking a different class altogether. You don't have to decide yet since it's not on your schedule for this semester anyway, but I want you to know that's an option."

"Okay, thanks for letting me know." From the sound of it, Matt figured that he'd rather do something else. Besides, having someone sit beside him sounded like it would attract a little too much attention. He hated that kind of attention.

"Finally, there's the testing situation. How are you with computers?"

"I'm not spectacular, but I manage."

"Okay, because that's an easy way to do it. But, we might want to talk more about this after I get some recommendations from your professors. Why don't you call to schedule another appointment after you've talked to them. Does that sound okay?"

"Sure, that's fine."

"Any other questions? I'll give you my card here, in case there's anything."

"No, it sounds like everything's covered." He was relieved to have this whole thing out of the way, and he liked Gina's no-nonsense approach. This would totally be okay. At least he hoped it would.

"Did we offer to have someone show you around, by the way?"

"I've got that covered already, but thanks."

"Okay, let's get your books and send you on your way then. And, Matt?"

"Yeah?"

"You're going to do fine here. I can tell about these things." She gave him a pat on the back as he stood back up and headed for the exit.

"Thanks, I appreciate it." The whole college thing might actually work out. Who would have guessed?


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Matt gratefully set down the big heavy bag of books on the steps in front of the main library before taking a seat and freeing himself from his backpack, which was just as heavy. He was definitely going to have to stash these books somewhere if they were going to go explore campus. Maybe they could ask one of the librarians to watch them and come by to pick them up later, before heading back home.

It was odd to think of it as home, but even after just one night, Matt was sure he'd get settled in before too long. He'd never spent long periods of time away from home before. The last time he went anywhere was around three years ago when some agency, he couldn't quite remember which one, had sent him to what his dad referred to as "blind camp." Though he couldn't recall the exact name of it, he was pretty sure it was something a little more politically correct, and it definitely had "visually impaired" in the title. While the experience had been pleasant enough, it had definitely brought home the idea of how different he was from everyone else, whether blind or sighted. In a world where people loved to attach labels to themselves and others, he couldn't quite find one that actually fit. His whole world was one of impossible contradictions.

Matt had strange abilities that allowed him to do things he could never have done when he could still see. His sense of balance was heightened, along with his reflexes and general awareness of his own body. He could easily and instinctively perform moves that would have normally required much more conscious control. There were no blind jumps. He could feel where the ground was, even in the middle of a back flip from one of those fire escapes he liked to climb on his nightly adventures. Anything quickly moving toward him could be clearly felt, whether it was a human fist or a fast-moving object. Matt had been taught to react to these things instinctively. Stick had once said that if you had to think about it, you weren't moving fast enough. He had been trained to be a master martial artist and he still kept up his routine even after his master had mysteriously vanished from his life. Matt wasn't quite sure what to do with all of his abilities, but at least he never had to fear for his personal safety. And he loved what he could do, loved the exhilaration and the power. That feeling of being on top of the world, unstoppable, the very opposite of what people saw when they looked at him. That was the gift a mysterious woman had once promised him. His senses were only tools. Being able to move effortlessly through space, connected to everything around him, that was the true gift.

But none of it helped in finding a name for who he was, _what_ he was. Because he was also someone who, come Monday, would have to swallow his pride and go to each and everyone of the men and women who would be teaching his classes and introduce himself as the blind guy. He would have to articulate a need most other people didn't have, and he would have to instruct them in how to meet that need, and every time they did, everyone would know it was for his benefit. It was almost like his whole life was upside down. The things that should have been hard were easy, and some of the things that should have been easy were hard. For all his powers, he couldn't even do something as simple as getting his eyes to work. Next to all the crazy things he could do, it seemed almost silly; like a big cosmic joke. But, it was always going to be this thing to deal with, and his meeting that morning had reminded him of that inescapable fact. He worried that every time he would go in for a job interview, all anyone would ever see was a big price tag; someone who couldn't pull his own weight. He knew he was going to have to be better than everybody else, and for a moment that thought weighed heavy on his mind. "Good enough" wasn't going to cut it, because that just wasn't how the world worked, no matter how many laws were made to make things right.

On the other hand, he had never been one to settle for just being good enough. He knew he was a fighter. He had once lost almost everything he took for granted and had worked hard to get it back. Then he had met Stick and worked even harder, pushing himself to the extreme, breaking seemingly impossible barriers. If he had to rise to the top of his class for someone to take a chance on him, then that would be his new goal. He was going to make sure his future was all that it could be, and that his dad would never have to worry. Besides, who was he to back down from a challenge? It just wasn't in him.

**ooOoo**

Foggy was out of breath as he half ran to campus. After his conversation with the woman who insisted on calling herself his mother, he had settled comfortably in front of the TV and lost track of time. After that, he had bumped into a couple of their new neighbors and, desperate to make friends, he had decided to stop long enough to exchange more than just a rushed greeting. He almost regretted that now as he spotted Matt on the steps in front of the huge library building checking his watch, probably wondering whether his roommate was stuck under a piece of heavy furniture. As Foggy got closer he saw a reaction in Matt that looked almost like startled recognition. _Did he already know he was there?_ There were people everywhere, he was easily one hundred feet away from him, and Foggy knew his new friend couldn't even see to tell light from dark. How could he possibly know? But it was probably nothing, just a coincidence.

"Hey, Matt!" Foggy felt his breathing becoming even more labored as he climbed the last few steps two at a time. He paused as he saw Matt smile and get to his feet, brushing the dust of his jeans. Still on the ground was his backpack, which looked much heavier than it had that morning, and a sturdy bag that looked like it was full of books.

"Foggy! What happened to you?" Matt had been sitting on those steps for an hour, but that was more due to his being early, which he had expected to be anyway, than to Foggy being ten minutes late.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I lost track of time, I don't know what happened."

"That's okay, it was only ten minutes. I just thought you might be lost or something."

"Nope, this place is a little hard to miss." Foggy's breathing was starting to return to normal and he waited as Matt put his backpack on and reached for his extra bag. "Hey, you want me to grab that?"

"No that's okay. But I think we'd better take these to the library first before we doing anything else. I'm sure we can stash them there until we head back."

"Are those your books?"

"Yeah, now I'm all covered." Matt continued up the stairs with Foggy right behind.

"So how did it go? With your appointment, I mean?" By now they were up by the front door of the library and Foggy noticed how Matt held his cane parallel to the door, moving it in an arc from the side toward the center to find the handle. There seemed to be a trick for everything.

"Oh, it was fine. Seems like most things have been taken care of. I just need to talk to my professors and stuff, but I'll do that when classes start."

"Well, that's good." Foggy looked around the inside of the library. Coming in from the sun, it took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Now this was what a real library at a real university was supposed to look like. "Wow, I can't believe how big this place is!"

"I know. I can tell!" Matt breathed in a whiff of air. The smell of old books was everywhere, and the echoes revealed stone walls all around. It was a truly magnificent building. "Now, do you see the information desk anywhere?"

"Yeah, it's right over there." Foggy nodded toward an area on the far right, not too far from where they were standing. He caught his little slip-up when he noticed Matt almost cracking up.

"Um, Foggy? I can't see, remember?" He could, however, sense it just fine, especially since Foggy's nod had confirmed the identity of what he already suspected to be the place they were looking for.

"Sorry, I forgot."

"That's okay. It's good that you're forgetting."

"Well, it's to the right here." Foggy started walking and Matt followed next to him.

"So, tell me, are the librarians hot?"

"What? Of course not, they're librarians!" Foggy couldn't help laughing, it was such an out of left field thing to ask.

"Hey, you never know." Matt was pretty sure the woman they were now approaching wasn't much to look at, however. She smelled like an old person. Not only did old people have a particular old-people smell, they also exhibited certain other habits that were easy to pick up on. This particular specimen was a regular user of the same hemorrhoid cream his old neighbor in Hell's Kitchen used, and her perfume was heavy. There was also a faint trace of denture adhesive.

"Yes, can I help you?" Brenda Kingsley was a person who after decades of serving young people exhibiting a steady decline in good manners with each generation, had simply given up trying to be friendly and now offered little except guarded patience to those who dared approach her. Her voice didn't belie her apathy.

"Yes, I was hoping you might. See, I'm a new student here and I picked up these Braille books at the DSO earlier. They're kind of heavy, so we were thinking that maybe we could keep them here until we head back to our place. If that's alright?"

"Well, I can't see why not." She sighed and gave Foggy a smile that stayed on her lips for just a fraction of a second. She turned her attention back to Matt. "Put them here on the counter, and I'll find a place for them."

"Thank you." Matt quickly did as she asked.

"What time can I expect you back? Oh, and I'll be needing your name." Foggy studied the woman closely as she spoke. Unlike most people, himself included, she didn't seem to flinch even for a split second at Matt being blind. On the other hand, he doubted she would have so much as raised an eyebrow even if the two of them had come in dressed as Tom and Jerry.

"Matthew Murdock, that's with c-k at the end, and I think we'll be back here no later than five."

"Very well." She began to unceremoniously dump them in a pile on a cart behind the counter, and Matt had to bite his tongue to prevent himself from asking her to be a little more careful.

"Okay, let's get out of here." Foggy offered Matt his arm, and they quickly headed toward the exit.

Once back outside, Matt expressed what both of them were thinking. "What charm school did she graduate from?"

"So much for your sexy librarians, huh?" Foggy laughed.

"Okay, so maybe this one was a little older than I like 'em."

"Like them? Do you have a thing for librarians or something?"

"What, me? Never. Guidance counselors, on the other hand…"

"_Please_ tell me you're kidding."

"Yeah, I'm totally kidding. Don't worry, Foggy." Matt smiled, let go of Foggy and headed down the steps.

**ooOoo**

"Um, Matt? Those are the women's sizes." Foggy looked at Matt who had his hand firmly placed on top of one of the piles of t-shirts that took up two tables in the campus store.

"Okay, my bad." Matt had no trouble laughing at his own expense. "Where are the men's t-shirts then?"

"It's the next table. They look about the same though." Foggy saw Matt take another couple of steps forward and land his hand on the correct pile this time. People around them were looking, and Foggy didn't like it one bit. And it wasn't the first time he'd noticed it since hanging around with Matt.

Matt could easily feel the sticky plastic imprint on the fabric, and he wouldn't have needed heightened senses to do so either. They were only around seven dollars, and a Columbia University t-shirt just seemed like one of those things a new student should have. While tracing the design, he noticed Foggy's discomfort and had no trouble guessing the reason for it. "What's up Foggy?"

"People are looking."

"Well, you'd better get used to it."

"Do you?"

"What?"

"Do you ever get used to it?"

"You get used to ignoring it, it's not a big deal." The idea of constantly being on display wasn't always easy to deal with, but Matt had had more than four years of practice. Of course, it didn't exactly help that having hyper senses made it much easier to pick up on the comments some people made, unaware that he could hear them.

"Okay. I just don't like it."

"Well, what are you gonna do?" Matt smiled and decided to change the subject. Foggy definitely needed a distraction. "What colors do they have?"

"Oh," Foggy started as he checked out the offerings, "gray, black, white, dark blue and red."

"What kind of red? Like bright red or burgundy?"

"I don't know what it's called. It's a dark red. I guess that's burgundy."

"Cool, my favorite. White letters, right?"

"Yeah. It's definitely the nicest one." Foggy picked one off the table in a size large and handed it to Matt who ran his hand through the strap on his cane so he could hold the t-shirt against his body with both hands.

"I think this is a good size. How do I look?"

"You look fine, but you probably shouldn't be asking me about stuff like that." Foggy suddenly thought of the many instances of Rosalind complaining about his sense of style. Or, rather, his non-existent sense of style. On the other hand, the way Matt looked, he would probably look good wearing just about anything. He certainly had the build for it.

"Well, I like it so I'm getting it. But if I find out this is bright pink or something, I'll have your head on a plate."

"I would never do that." Foggy knew Matt was joking, but it still hit him in some weird place.

"Hey, I'm kidding. I trust you. Okay?" Matt knew there was something on Foggy's mind, but he didn't want to ask.

"Yeah, I know."

"Aren't you getting anything?"

"Maybe some other time. It looks better on you than me anyway."

"Not that it's any of my business, but are you okay? You seem a little down."

"No, I'm fine. Really." He _was_ fine, there was just something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

"Okay, I'm going to go pay for this."

"I'll be right there." Foggy looked around the store, keeping one eye on Matt who seemed to be doing just fine on his own. He wondered for a second if he would have been able to do all the things Matt could do if he had been the one who was blind. But he wasn't going to think about that because it scared the hell out of him. It probably wasn't anything to worry about anyway. He was getting more and more convinced that the bad stuff only happened to people who could handle it. Extraordinary people. Not average people like him.

**ooOoo**

"You seriously think you could get _me_ into shape?" Foggy was skeptical. They had just taken their seats at a diner across the street from their building for a late lunch after having spent most of they day hanging out at the activities fair, checking out clubs, student unions and fraternities. After that, Foggy had registered for his classes and before heading back they had gotten an exclusive tour of the gym and now Matt was getting all kinds of crazy ideas.

"I'm just saying that if you want to come with me, I could show you some moves." Matt was excited about the gym, which even sported a real punching bag that few people ever used, and he was hoping that his enthusiasm might rub off.

"Some moves, huh? Matt, I'm a band geek with crappy coordination. But fine, I'll give it a try. Just promise you won't laugh when I fall off the treadmill."

"I can't make any promises, but I doubt that will happen. You'll be fine. I'm not going to force you to do anything, I just see it as a little _quid pro quo_."

"What?"

"You help me out with some stuff, and I help you out with some stuff."

"I'm pretty sure I'll look like an idiot, but that's okay I guess." Foggy really didn't mind some help getting in shape, but he saw himself as a complete klutz.

"You won't look like an idiot, I promise." Matt gave Foggy a reassuring smile.

"So have you always been into sports and stuff?"

"Well, my dad wouldn't let me do sports when I was a kid, but I always wanted to. So I started hanging out at his gym when he wasn't there, just practicing. It was a nice way to vent some stuff. And after the accident I did what I could to stay in shape." Matt decided to leave it at that, with no mention of extra-sensory training sessions with mysterious ninja masters.

"Well, I've just never been good at that kind of thing. You could throw a ball right at me, and I still couldn't catch it."

"You and me both, buddy." Matt said it though it was clearly a lie. He could catch anything. Sometimes he hated being a habitual liar, but the truth could never come out or he was sure he'd be poked and prodded by every scientist on the Eastern Seaboard. And in some weird way, he drew strength from his secret too.

"Well, at least you have an excuse. What's mine?"

"We're all good at different things, it's not a big deal. You don't need to be a jock to be somebody."

"I know. I kinda like that about getting older. I like that life isn't supposed to be like high school when you grow up."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. There will always be bullies though, people who take their own stuff out on other people."

"I guess. But it gets easier, right?"

"How should I know?" Matt laughed at the fact that Foggy seemed to view him as some sort of authority on life's big questions. "But I hope so. I really do."

"So I guess we should think about ordering, huh? The waitress is probably going to come by any second. Let me read you the menu."

"That's okay, I'll have what the lady next to us is having."

Foggy was a perplexed. He looked over to his left and, sure enough, there was a woman working her way through a large bowl of pasta, but he'd barely noticed her himself. And, she wasn't making much noise. "How do you know there's even anyone there?"

"You really wanna know?"

"Absolutely."

"Okay, close your eyes." Matt knew it wouldn't exactly replicate his own experience since he could make out her shape at will, but it was close enough.

"Okay." Foggy felt a little silly about it, but he was curious about where Matt was going with this.

"Are you doing it?"

"Yes, no cheating. I promise."

"Okay, now you listen."

"For what?"

"Just listen for a while, and I'll tell you what to listen for in a minute."

"If you say so." He still felt a little silly, but decided to at least give this a try. Before long, he noticed all kinds of sounds he wouldn't normally have paid any active attention to. There was the sound of the cash register somewhere in the background, conversations, silverware against porcelain, a chair scraping against the floor, footsteps, a door opening in the back, and the bell at the front door chiming as a new customer came in.

"Okay, now pay attention to the table next to ours. What do you hear?" Matt listened closely himself, trying to figure out which of the sounds were loud enough for Foggy to hear. It was hard to tell sometimes, since he had become so accustomed to his own exotic perceptions. It was difficult to even remember the world being any different.

"Hmm, a fork against a plate? Someone chewing?" He was pretty sure he wasn't doing this right.

"Now did you hear that?"

"What?"

"She just turned a page. She's reading something from a glossy magazine, not a newspaper."

"Yeah, you're right." Foggy could definitely hear it as she turned another page. It was very faint, but if you listened hard enough it was there. And it didn't have that crackling sound of low-grade paper.

"That's an indication it's a woman. Not solid evidence, of course, but it's a start." Matt listened for another couple of seconds, not focusing on his radar sense at all. "Okay, now she just shifted her weight, the chair moved. Did you hear it?"

"Yeah, I think… Yes, I heard it"

"Did she sound heavy or light?"

"Light."

"That's another piece of information, but we can definitely tell there's someone there, right?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, well since we came in here, I've heard her heel click against the floor a couple of times, her nails, long ones, have been drummed against the table. She's wearing some kind of bracelet, because I heard that too. And she's wearing Chanel No 5."

"You know the names of specific perfumes?" Foggy asked with his eyes still shut. This whole blind thing seemed like an awful lot of work.

"Well, not _all_ of them. Far from it, but that one's pretty popular. She'd have to be at least forty though."

"Why?"

"Younger women usually wear something a little lighter."

"Can I open my eyes now?"

"Sure."

Foggy blinked his eyes open and found Matt smiling at him. "Okay, I can see how that works."

"Yeah? Now watch this." Matt leaned over to his right and turned in the direction of the woman at the next table. "Excuse me ma'am, I'm sorry to bother you, but you wouldn't happen to be eating some kind of seafood pasta, would you?"

Foggy looked at her, curious about her reaction. She seemed baffled but didn't appear to mind the intrusion. "Yes, it's today's special," she said.

"It smells really good. Is it?" Matt really didn't mind showing off some of the things he could do as long as it didn't come across as too suspicious.

She laughed. "Yes, it is. It's very good. That's some nose you've got there."

"Okay, thanks. That's all I wanted to know." Matt turned back to face Foggy

"Hey, nice trick." Foggy didn't quite know what to make of Matt. The guy seemed like a one-man magic show sometimes.

"Well, I've got a good nose," Matt said, smiling.

"You sure it's not true? About the heightened senses, I mean?"

"It just takes practice, that's all." That part wasn't so much a lie as a half-truth. It _had_ taken practice to make sense of the new world he had woken up to in a hospital bed four years earlier, and he still approached many tasks the same as any blind person would. The difference lay not so much in the method used as in the amount of information at his disposal. And there was rarely a shortage of information as far as his nose was concerned.

"If you say so."

"I do. Now how about we hit the gym tomorrow. Are you in?"

"Yeah, I'm in. What the hell, right?"

"Exactly, it'll be fun!"

Foggy seriously doubted that. On the other hand, if there was ever a time to take chances, branch out and just do something different, this was it.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Matt turned out to be a strict boss in the grocery shopping department. Foggy had no idea why the cantaloupe he had picked out didn't measure up to Matt's standards, whereas the one right next to it did. The same with the apples and even the tomatoes. The only thing Foggy felt Matt needed him for was finding the general location of things and reading the prices. It also occurred to him that he must have lived a very sheltered life because he had no idea what constituted a decent price for most of the items they looked at. Matt, on the other hand, seemed to have a very precise idea of what things were supposed to cost.

"One sixty-nine per pound? That's a little pricey." Matt listened as Foggy went through the packaged raw meat. The styrofoam cartons squeaked as they rubbed against each other.

"So, that's a no then?" Foggy turned around to look back up at Matt.

"No, just throw a package in, it's fine. It's hard finding anything cheaper than ground beef anyway."

"Yes, sir," Foggy said jokingly.

"Am I being too hard on you?"

"No. Well, maybe a little." Foggy smiled. He didn't really mean what he'd said. Matt didn't have the luxury of reading all the labels himself, so it seemed a little unfair to complain too much.

"Sorry about that. We're supposed to be doing this together, so you should decide too. So, how do _you_ feel about the ground beef, Foggy?"

"Oh, I think I'm okay with it. What are you going to do with it anyway?"

"I don't know. I guess we could mix it with spaghetti sauce or something."

"How do you know all this stuff? I can just barely boil an egg."

"Well, mixing some cooked ground beef with a jar of Prego is about as easy as it gets, so I'm sure you'll get the hang of it. But as for how I know how to feed myself the simple answer is 'single dad.' I had to help out a lot at home."

"My mom always cooks everything. As far as I know, food just magically appears on the table. Well, I know there's more to it than that, but you know." Foggy tossed the package in their shopping cart that was already half-full of essentials like sugar, flour, milk, butter, bread, cheese and a standard assortment of different spices.

"Yeah. Well, you save a lot of money this way."

"You're going to make me look good, you know that?" Foggy continued pushing the cart down the isle. Matt kept his right hand on the side of it so he could both help push and follow along.

"I'm making you look good? Well, that's an added bonus."

"Seriously. I don't think my parents expect that much of me really. My mom even offered to take care of my laundry every other week. You're forcing me to clean up my act."

"I'm glad I can help turn you into a frugal housewife. That was my sinister plan all along." Matt smiled before taking a couple of seconds to breathe in the air, and really focus on everything around him. He really loved his nose. He didn't always love his ears. He would have loved them a lot more if he could turn them off, but since that wasn't an option, he would always be better friends with his nose. While the smell of urine in the subway was certainly no picnic, most scents were quite interesting and many were pleasurable. Grocery stores were always interesting places, and with this being an unfamiliar one, he was challenged to work his nose a little harder than usual. He knew they were now zooming through the rice and pasta section. These goods were not as fragrant as the fruits and vegetables, but they had a distinctive scent nonetheless. "So, Foggy?"

"Yeah?"

"What's the deal with this fraternity? Are you really going to join?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe next year. What's with all the skepticism, anyway?"

"I don't know. Maybe it's just because I've never really seen the appeal myself."

"They're not all for people who are really popular. I just thought Omega Delta seemed pretty cool."

"Was that the one were they make you wear antlers for initiation?"

"Yeah. You have a problem with antlers?" Foggy laughed.

"All I can say is thank God I'm blind."

"So that's a no on the antlers, then?"

"Well, not on the actual animal they came from, but other than that, yeah."

"Okay, do we need some pasta?" Foggy stopped abruptly in front of the penne.

"Yeah, I think so."

"Any particular price range?" Foggy asked jokingly.

"Oh come on, I'm not that bad, am I?"

"No, you're okay. I'm just being a jerk."

"That's okay, I can take it. You mind if we get some spaghetti or linguini? It's easier to measure."

"No, I don't care. So, Matt, I hope you don't think I'm a copy cat for picking almost the same classes you did." Foggy grabbed a pound of spaghetti and tossed into the shopping cart.

"No, I don't mind. I think that could be fun." The next isle was one that had few specific scents. Matt focused on his radar and was quickly able to pull forth the shapes of tin cans from the vaguely contoured black void that otherwise permeated his world. Canned goods weren't supposed to smell like anything, if they did that was a sure sign the seal was broken.

"Matt?" Foggy stopped again, "do we want any canned soup or anything? I think even I could cook that."

"Sure, I like most of them. Do they have anything that's low in preservatives?" Matt was a little worried that Foggy was going to think that he was too much of a health nut, but he could always taste the additives if there was too much of anything.

"Wow, first you're dragging me to the gym, now this." Foggy laughed, but Matt looked a little embarrassed.

"Sorry about that. I like all of them though, it's just a preference."

"Well, here's something that says 'organic' on it. Does that work?"

"That sounds perfect."

"So, tomato, cream of mushroom, beef, chicken or cream of asparagus?"

"Let's just get them all. Go a little nuts, huh?"

"Wow, we turn to soup for excitement now? Foggy saw Matt smile one of his wide grins. He was really starting to like his new roommate a lot and felt an odd sense of accomplishment every time he could elicit that kind of reaction from him.

"Well, you know, sprinkle it with some chili pepper and we're really rocking."

"You know, I had a feeling rooming with you was going to be interesting."

"Oh did you? Somehow I doubt that." Aside from being blind, having crazy heightened senses and having been trained by a ninja master, Matt felt like a very normal guy, and he was relieved that Foggy was treating him as such. By now, Matt could tell that Foggy wasn't the least bit nervous around him anymore.

"Oops, crowded," Foggy said as they turned right into the cleaning supply aisle. He stopped abruptly, as there was no way they were getting through walking almost shoulder to shoulder with a big shopping cart.

Matt didn't need his radar sense to know that there were eight people in front of them, and he could map their exact locations too without having to make out their shapes. People had no idea how loud their bodies really were; heartbeats, breath sounds, even their intestines moving. Most of the sounds were concentrated to the frequencies that normal hearing wasn't particularly sensitive to, but to him, people gave off a constant beat and subtle hum, along with the wheezing sound of air being pulled and pushed in and out of their lungs. Suddenly, he was feeling mischievous. "Not a problem, Foggy. Watch this."

Foggy grinned as he saw Matt let go of their cart and begin to walk down the aisle, his cane touching the hard floor with a distinct click with each step. People around them suddenly seemed very eager to make themselves as small as possible and quickly moved out of the way. A couple of them weren't fast enough and got whacked, which Matt followed with an "excuse me" or "I'm sorry." With the sea having been parted in front of him, Foggy pushed their cart ahead and stopped where Matt was waiting. "Your middle name wouldn't be Moses, would it?"

"No, it's Michael actually. But I'm telling you, Foggy, never underestimate the intimidation factor of the white cane. It looks innocent enough, but it can make grown men run away screaming in fear."

"I guess so. But can it get us into bars?"

Matt laughed. "I don't know, I haven't tried."

ooOoo

By the time they got back, it was already six o'clock. Matt got out his things to make Braille labels for the cans, using some index cards and attaching them with rubber bands. Everything else could be easily identified without any markings. After everything was put away, Foggy took a seat in front of the TV and started channel surfing while Matt got to one of the other things he had to get sorted out before the end of the first week, and preferably sooner; the reader situation. He pulled out a couple of sheets of paper that had slightly raised lines on them and started thinking about what to write. Finally, he decided to just stick to the basics and get his message out in as few words as possible:

I'm a blind student looking for readers.

The pay is 4.50/hr. Call me if interested.

Matt Murdock

He wrote the same thing on a second sheet of paper, then found a pair of scissors to cut little tabs at the bottom of each sheet so people could take the phone number with them. "Foggy, can I borrow you for a second?"

"Yeah, I'll be right there." Foggy got up off the couch, happy for a diversion. Considering there was hardly ever anything worthwhile to watch, he couldn't understand himself why he spent so much time in front of the TV.

"Could you write our phone number here on these?" Matt pointed to the fringed edges of the papers before him. He knew his handwriting was still pretty good. He had to write using only muscle memory since he couldn't check what he was doing while he was doing it, but that was at least partially offset by the fact that his fine motor skills had actually improved since the accident. But the numbers would have to be very small to fit and written across the lines, rather than on them, and he wanted to be completely sure they looked okay. He could always go back and check with his fingers later, but by then it would be too late to correct it.

"Wow, you have better handwriting than I do," Foggy said. "Are you sure you want _me_ to do it?"

"Just the numbers. I'm sure the rest looks fine."

"Why do you need to hire someone? I could read to you if you want."

"No, I don't want that. That would just be weird."

"You sure? I wouldn't mind, honest."

"Thanks, but I wouldn't feel comfortable having you do it. It's supposed to be like a job, not a favor."

"Okay, I understand." Foggy sat down next to Matt at the kitchen table and started writing out their number, which he still had to double-check from the piece of paper by the phone. At least writing it twenty times over helped to commit it to memory. "Okay, that's it. Where are you going to put these?"

"I thought I'd put one in the lobby. I don't know about the other one. We'll see if I get any calls over the weekend, otherwise maybe I'll put it up in the library. I think I'll be able to find a couple of people pretty fast. And I can pretty much guarantee only girls will call."

"Really?"

"It's a Florence Nightingale thing. Except I hate it when they think it'll earn them a gold star or something. It's just a job."

"So, we're going to have a bunch of women running through here?"

"Don't get any ideas, Foggy." Matt laughed at his friend's eagerness to make friends with members of the opposite sex. "Besides, we may not always do it here. In fact, if I can get them to read it onto a tape without my having to be there every time, that's even better."

"Okay, fine. It's a job, I get it."

"But I'll have them all come here for the interviews, okay?"

"That's good. So who's paying for this?"

"The university will pay for it. They have to, otherwise they're breaking the law."

"Really? I feel like I should know this stuff."

"Well, if they didn't, it would be considered a form of discrimination."

"That makes sense." Foggy thought that seemed pretty fair. Matt couldn't help that he was blind, and it didn't seem right that he should have to pay extra money to be able to do the same things as anyone else.

"You know, I just remembered something. My dad has a fight tonight."

"How often does he have fights?"

"A couple of times a month. The rest of the time he works out, and they have sparring matches and such with other boxers."

"So, how long has he been a boxer?" Foggy didn't know anyone else whose parent had a job like that. His own father was an investment banker at a large firm downtown. They weren't exactly affluent, but pretty well off.

"On and off for as long as I can remember. He's had other jobs too." Matt didn't want to say anything about some of the less decent jobs his dad had had. He wasn't even sure his father was aware that he knew about them. "He's been a boxer full time since my accident. He decided to make it work, and so far it's been going pretty well. Especially lately."

"Well, that's kind of a cool job. Did he talk about it on career day in school when you were a kid."

"No, he never came to career day. It's funny; when I was a kid, I used to worship the ground he walked on and I thought being a boxer was the best job in the world. I really did think it was cool. Now it's different. I don't look up to him any less, but it's not really as glamorous as I thought it was when I was a kid. When you get hit over the head enough times... It's just not that healthy. I worry that he's going get seriously hurt."

"You mean turn out like Mohammad Ali?"

"Yeah, or worse. I didn't use to understand the whole 'stay in school' thing he used to nag me with, but I do now. He loves being a boxer, and he's really good at it, but it's not really something you can build your whole future on. Maybe he's got five good years left, at the most."

"What are you going to do then?"

"I don't know. I'm sure there are other jobs he could do, he's not a stupid man. He's uneducated, but he's not stupid. It worries me to think about it though. I hope I'll be done with law school by then and have a job so I can help him out.

"I wish I felt about my dad the way you do. You know, just from hearing you talk about him. You guys seem really close. My dad is more like one of those dads from some fifties TV show where he comes home and says 'Honey, I'm home!' and then asks you about school and you end up talking about baseball because you don't have anything else to talk about."

"Wow."

"I love him. I really do, and he's a good dad, but I don't think I could really talk to him about important things."

"Have you ever tried?"

"No, I haven't. Maybe I should. He's just never talked about important things with me, so I think that maybe I've just assumed things."

"Well, my dad and I don't talk about everything either." For a second Matt contemplated telling Foggy everything he'd never told anyone before. His heart started pounding at the prospect of sharing his secret with someone other than Stick, with a person from the real world where abilities like his were supposed to be impossible. But what would he say? That while he was blind, and always would be, he could feel where things were around him, and hear and smell better than anyone? He couldn't say that. His heart started slowing down again. He wouldn't say anything.

"You don't?"

"I think it's okay to keep some things from your parents, right? You kind of need your own space. But you're right, we're close. Especially lately. It's more of a man to man thing these days. I'm not a little kid anymore, and for the most part he's pretty good about not treating me like one."

"Around my dad, I still feel like I'm ten. I do what I'm told, always have. I almost admire Candace sometimes, even though she's a real brat. At least she's clear on what she wants. That whole kicking and screaming thing? I never did that. But sometimes it feels like that would be really nice."

"Well, you can kick and scream all you want here."

"Naw, that would kind of defeat the purpose. Besides, I think I'm a little too old for that now." Foggy leaned back against the chair and looked out the window. It felt really good to be out on his own. It was nice to have someone to share it all with too.

"You hungry, by the way?"

"Yeah, I was just about to ask you."

"Then how about I teach you how to cook with pasta sauce from a jar?"

"Okay, you're on."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Matt dreamed one of those nice dreams where he could still see, and had his heightened senses as well. Except the senses never hurt him in his dreams. It was as if he could control how much he wanted to hear and smell without having to work so hard for it. When he woke up it was the opposite. Drab and colorless, and just too damn loud. The first night, he had been tired enough to just fall asleep from exhaustion, but now he suddenly woke up, feeling restless. He checked the time on his watch. It was one in the morning which meant he must have been out for two hours He was wondering how he was ever going to be able to get back to sleep. Matt had gradually gotten used to the background noises of the Hell's Kitchen, but everything was new here and seemed to beg for his attention.

He had spent a lot of time awake at night in the last few years. Some of it was a general restlessness, a need to go out and test his limits and just enjoy his newfound abilities. Some of it was probably physiological, because his difficulties falling asleep sometimes seemed to come and go in cycles. The doctors had told him from the start that his sleep patterns might get disrupted. It happened sometimes to people with total vision loss, and had to do with his brain not knowing whether it was day or night. He'd even had some sleeping pills prescribed, but he'd rarely taken them. They just seemed to put a blanket on everything else so he couldn't feel things around him as easily. He didn't like that at all.

Matt decided to go for a walk. He couldn't cut the noise out by ignoring it, so he might as well familiarize himself with it by learning the distinct beats and hums of this particular neighborhood. He had once heard that the only way to get a song stuck in your head to stop playing was to give into it and let it play its course, and this was almost the same thing. He listened to make sure that Foggy was deep asleep before quietly getting out of bed and putting on a sweatshirt and a pair of loose-fitting jeans. He opened up a second drawer and took out his spare folding cane, just in case he would want to put it away. Listening carefully to the sounds outside their door, he slipped out and took the elevator down. To him, it moved with a loud roar, but he knew it was unlikely that it would wake anyone else.

He walked through the empty lobby and out onto the street. The air had a nice crisp chill to it and he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Everything was clearer at night, and the scents more distinct. There was a also a nice kind of moisture that smelled really good, like dew early in the morning. Matt walked down the steps and took off up the street, in the opposite direction from the campus. He hadn't walked very far in that direction before and decided it might be worth checking out. As he moved along, he focused most of his energy on listening in to the pulse of the area, letting his cane pick up some of the slack as he was barely paying attention to his radar.

The key to sorting out most sounds lay in listening to their rhythm. He had figured this out for himself a long time ago, when he was still trying desperately to decipher the dark and noisy chaos around him. After he met Stick, his ability to focus had improved even more. There were rhythmical sounds everywhere: heartbeats, footsteps, the constant and circular hum of machinery, and even the rise and fall of the sound of passing cars. Almost all sounds had a particular structure that would allow him to predict its pattern, locate its exact source and usually be able to recognize its cause. Because few sounds were truly sudden, he was rarely taken by surprise. When not already present, they seemed to introduce themselves gradually in a subtle whisper before barging in and taking center stage. This was especially true of people, with all their noises, along with their distinct scent-faces that were as easy to separate as their actual faces had once been, perhaps even more so. It was impossible for him not to notice that someone was in the room with him and he knew equally well that he wasn't alone on this street. It was, after all, a Friday night in the city that never sleeps, and a pleasant one at that. There were night clubs still open a few blocks down, and in the restaurants that had just closed the staff was busy locking up for the night.

As usual, those he encountered were courteous enough to just get out of his way. He heard a couple of people question the decision of a blind teenager to take to the streets at night all alone, though it was obvious the whispered conversation wasn't meant for his ears. The rest seemed busy worrying about their own problems, and to amuse himself, Matt did a little selective eavesdropping before reminding himself what he was doing there. He focused again on the background noises other people couldn't hear or barely noticed.

When he first woke up after the accident, everything had just seemed too loud. But gradually, over the first week, he began to realize that it wasn't just the volume that had been turned up. He could suddenly hear things he had never heard before. All these sounds had become invaluable in helping him build a new map of the world. It was a world that worked for him now, but in the beginning it was hard not to pay attention to the huge chunk that was missing, rather than what remained, more readily perceived than ever before. One of his instructors had once reminded him that the world was still out there, and that he could still be a part of it and interact with it even though he couldn't see it. Matt didn't find it very comforting at the time, but the idea stuck with him. As he learned to use the sounds and scents around him rather than try to fight them, it even began to make sense. Now, he was busy cataloguing each strip of sidewalk in the manner he had mastered over the last few years, though some part of him was wondering what it actually looked like. In Hell's Kitchen, his new impressions had been layered on top of the old ones from before the accident. Here, that piece was missing. He had never seen this street, and knew he never would.

"Hey, kid! It's not safe for you to be out here." Matt had detected the presence of the middle-aged man two blocks away, but he was surprised to suddenly be spoken to.

"I think I'll be fine, thank you." Though a little annoyed, Matt could understand the man's concern. Even if he hadn't been blind, walking around alone in the middle of the night didn't seem like the safest thing to do. On the other hand, he knew lots of people thought he couldn't walk around by himself during the day either and having to decline unwanted help or deal with unsolicited advice was something he was more than used to.

"I wouldn't be so sure. This may not be a bad neighborhood, but someone like yourself looks like an easy target."

"I'll take my chances." Matt's response was firm, but he tried to be nice about it. As he kept walking, he heard the man behind him mutter a "suit yourself kid."

People were noisy, and so were buildings. There were generators, household appliances, ventilation systems, air conditioners, and many other sources of gently humming low frequencies that together painted a solid landscape of sound around him. Even without paying attention to his radar, they gave him enough information to create a sense of space in which each object and structure had its own assigned location in what would have otherwise just been an endless void. With all the scents added in, there were always plenty of little details for his mind to sort through, things to make sure his own little parallel universe was at least an interesting one.

The next cross street was a little more narrow and stood out for its lack of human sounds. Matt stopped for a moment and listened, letting his radar sense spread out, and paying special attention to the narrow passage on his right. He quickly realized that this wasn't a proper street at all, but just a large gap between buildings. He made sure that there was no one around within about a block before ducking into the narrow alley. He could feel the walls on either side as they seemed to push on the air around him and make it tighter. With just a little more focus, the feeling went from purely tactile to being like that almost-seeing experience he couldn't quite put his finger on. It was a far cry from 20/20 color vision, but it was good enough for what he needed to know. There were no windows here as the walls felt completely even, and just a few doors on the street level. There was a big dumpster halfway down the the side of the building, and from the sound of it, he thought there might be a fence back at the end of the alley, but he'd have to get closer to know for sure. A little closer to him was a fire escape.

A thought took hold that got his adrenalin pumping. Matt tried to talk himself out of it for about two seconds before giving in to the impulse. He could feels his lips part in a wide involuntary grin, and be began to walk closer to it while folding up the cane. He put it behind a nearby garbage can which announced itself through a pungent mix of rotten eggs, old milk cartons and what smelled like canned tomatoes. He took off his glasses as well and put them in the same spot. He didn't want to risk anything happening to then; they were brand new, had been quite expensive, and he'd been told on more than a few occasions that they were decidedly cool-looking. They were also the only pair he had.

His heart pounded hard in his chest as he pulled himself onto the side of the dumpster, jumped off the edge and grabbed on to the metal railing whose presence was revealed by the hazy shape he sensed about six feet in front of him. He landed on the first level of the fire escape, and quickly climbed another couple of steps. He listened briefly for anything out of the ordinary before letting go and allowing himself to fall back. He could feel the ground out there behind him somewhere, like a solid charge of static electricity, and quickly twisted around to nail a perefect landing. He loved this feeling more than anything. He couldn't always control his environment, but he was always in perfect control of his own body. He eagerly jumped back up again for another go, this time turning around so his back was against the structure he was standing on. He could feel the cold moist air on his face, even the part that was normally protected against the wind, and his eyes began to water. It wasn't unpleasant, quite the opposite. He dove forward, and could feel that perfect roller-coaster ride sensation shoot through his body, before landing squarely on the ground.

Within a second, the smile was gone from his face and he chided himself for not paying better attention. Someone on the other side of the wall was moving closer to his position, probably headed for one of the doors to take out the trash. There wasn't time to make a quick escape, so he went for the only available option. He had to just wing it and play it cool. Maybe the person wouldn't notice him. He was pretty sure the place wasn't lit, he hadn't detected any major heat source anywhere. Who knew, maybe the people who lived and worked around these parts were used to strange people hanging around. For a split secod, Matt even toyed with the idea of pretending to be homeless even though he realized that he was much to well-dressed for that. He soon ran out of things to think about as a door about twenty feet away from him swung open. Along with the movement of massive metal, he heard a readibly audible click and felt the slight warmth of something on his face. _Oh great, automatic lighting_. An average-sized man with a cloud of greasy kitchen scents attached came out and dumped the garbage bag he was carrying into one of the large metal cans by the door. Matt almost let out a sigh of relief as the man turned around to head back inside before stopping. The jig was up, and Matt knew it. He wasn't doing anything illegal and he wasn't trespassing, but his being there alone at that time of night was enough to elicit just the kind of unwanted attention he could do without.

"Hey, you lookin' for something?" Paul Belfry had worked as cook for the small family-owned restaurant on 112th St for most of his adult life and was no stranger to people and animals hanging around after closing, looking for scraps of left-overs. The figure in front of him, illuminated by the overhead light, was different. He looked like one of those college kids who lived up the street, which meant he wasn't looking for food. That made his being in a back alley in the middle of the night an odd occurrence.

"No, sir, I… I was looking for a party and made a wrong turn, I think." Matt probably could have thought of something better to say if he had had more time, but on short notice, it would have to do.

"Does this look like a party street to you?" Paul took another look at the kid. There was something odd about him. "Hey kid, look at me when I'm talking to you."

"No, I guess it doesn't. I wasn't snooping around, I promise." Matt swallowed hard and did his best to follow the man's instructions. He didn't show his eyes to people he didn't know well, and had tried to avoid meeting the man's gaze until now.

"You a junkie or something?" The kid was funny-looking alright, there was something about his eyes that didn't quite look right. Paul knew drugs could mess with people that way.

"No, I just…" Matt suddenly realized he could actually turn this around to his advantage. "I just made a wrong turn. I… I don't see well." Well, that was the understatement of the year, he thought to himself as he waited for the other man to respond. It was a good excuse though.

"Okay, then. Well, there's no partying around here." Paul decided to drop the whole thing, maybe the kid wasn't a junkie after all. After all, he did look more blind than stoned.

"I'll be on my way then," Matt smiled and started backing away slowly until he heard the door close and the man move back farther into the building. He quickly headed back toward the trash can and pulled out his things. He put the shades back on and snapped the cane straight. One thing was for sure, if he wanted to go out and play at night, this wasn't a very good playground. Fortunately, there was always the campus gym; not a good place for practicing acrobatics perhaps, but at least he could work off his extra energy that way.

Back out on the main street, he stopped to check his watch. It was now two in the morning and he knew he should get back. He had no idea what he was going to tell Foggy if he had happened to wake up to find him missing. Though he could always just tell him the truth; that he'd gone for a walk because he couldn't sleep. There was no need to mention almost getting caught making mid-air somersaults from a fire escape. That stuff was just extra-curricular anyway.

As it turned out, there was no need to explain anything. Foggy was still asleep when Matt came in the door. He undressed down to his boxers out in the big room and took his jeans and t-shirt with him back in the bedroom and put them in the dresser. Now Foggy was turning around, and Matt could hear his breathing becoming a little more shallow. He was waking up.

"Matt?" Foggy was beyond groggy, and just barely awake, when he noticed Matt sitting on the edge of the bed. He could barely make him out in the light of the street outside.

"Yeah, I just had to take a leak. I couldn't sleep, I'm sorry if I woke you" Matt got back under the covers, and realized that he still wasn't sleepy enough. He didn't expect a reply from Foggy, who was already back to his date with the Sandman. He sighed and listened to the hum of the refrigerator in the other room. While loud, it did have a hypnotic tone to it. He wasn't going to resist it this time, he was going to let it take him away. And it gently lulled him back to sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's note:** While the storyline is essentially fixed, this little piece is really beginning to swell which means that we're looking at probably more than twenty-five chapters. Just in case you're worried about it not having time to "finish" within the twenty chapters I first predicted. :)

**Chapter 14**

Foggy woke up to the sound and smell of bacon frying in a pan. The radio was playing some upbeat tune that just seemed too jarring for this early in the morning. Except it wasn't nearly as early as he thought, which he realized when his eyes landed on the red on black digital display. It was nine fifteen, but felt more like seven o'clock. At least he could easily think of worse scenarios to wake up to. He spent a couple of minutes sitting on the side of the bed to gather his thoughts. Today was the day of the big party that he looked forward to and dreaded at the same time. He really wanted to go, he just had no idea what he was going to do or how he was going to act once he got there. Hopefully, that would sort itself out. Putting those thoughts aside, Foggy threw on a t-shirt and walked into the kitchen.

"Good morning!" Matt had been up since seven thirty and felt very energetic despite only getting five hours of sleep.

"Hey," Foggy said, absent-mindedly scratching his head while taking a look at everything on the kitchen counter. Aside from the bacon in the pan, there was a carton of eggs out as well as some bread. The place also had a small coffee maker which was currently spitting what looked like a deliciously dark brew into a glass pot. "Wow, you're cooking up a storm here."

"Well, you made breakfast yesterday, I just though I'd return the favor." Matt smiled in Foggy's direction while trying to keep his focus on the task at hand. He would know by the smell when the bacon was getting there, and he touched a fork against the strips a few times to make sure they were just the right amount of crisp.

"What are you talking about? I put out a box of Cheerios and boiled water." Foggy laughed at the absurdity of equating all this with the poor excuse for a breakfast they'd had the day before.

"Well, it's the thought that counts, right?" Matt got a plate out to put the bacon on. "Hey, could you get a couple of paper towels and put on this plate here?"

"I'm glad you see it that way." Foggy pulled off a couple of sheets from the roll of paper towels on the table and put them on the plate Matt had out on the counter, and his mouth started watering when he saw the crispy golden bacon being lifted from the pan.

"So, how do you want your eggs? Fried, scrambled?" Matt grinned, adding, "Poached?"

"How about an omelet?"

"Sure, that's fine too."

"Matt, I'm kidding. Holy crap, I'm not going to have you make me an omelet. Besides, I prefer fried anyway."

"As you wish." Matt cracked a couple of eggs into the bacon fat that was still in the pan and heard them sizzle. "Over easy?"

"Sure, if you can."

"Hey, I can do anything."

"Yeah, I guess I should try and remember that. In fact I take all of that back about you making me look good. You're making me look _bad_."

"Well, I'm both a saint _and_ an over-achiever. Sorry about that pal."

"Hey, you won't see me complaining."

"You got _that_ right."

"Not what I meant."

"I know, I was kidding. It's allowed." Matt felt for the edge of the eggs with the spatula and carefully flipped them over. It was mostly a tactile task. He couldn't even really make out faces, so perceiving the subtle contours of most food items with any kind of certainty was a little beyond what his radar sense allowed. Dense objects were much easier.

"Wow, you're making real coffee too." Foggy decided to make himself useful and got a couple of cups out of the cupboard.

"Yeah, I had to run down to the store for the filters, though. I guess we forgot about that yesterday."

"You… how?"

"You know, I had no idea which ones to get, so I actually took the coffee filter basket with me. I know, pretty insane, huh? Then I just asked someone who worked there to help me find the right kind."

"Yeah, I guess that works."

"Yeah, real nice guy. Steve something." Matt got out another plate to put the eggs on and started frying two more. "If you want toast, you better put some in the toaster."

"Right, sorry. I thought you were my mother there for a second," Foggy said jokingly and did as he was told.

"That's okay. Anyway, I thought we'd better get something really solid if we were going to go to the gym later."

Foggy sighed. "I'll be honest, I'm not crazy about the idea, but I promised I'd do it, so I will."

"It'll be fun. I'll show you some different punches if you want."

"Sure, I guess that might come in handy."

"You don't sound all that convinced."

"Well, I've never been in a fist fight. At least not yet."

"Good for you. I have." Matt had been on the receiving end of many taunts growing up, and the fights had turned physical on more than one occasion. He'd been taught to not fight back, but he'd gotten in a pretty good punch now and again. These days, when he was better prepared to defend himself against just about anyone, no one gave him a hard time that way.

"Really? When?" Foggy looked at Matt who suddenly looked quite serious.

"A few times when I was little. I got teased a lot, but I told you about that. Not so much anymore. I guess it's considered to be in poor taste to 'tease the handicapped' and all that." Matt shrugged it off, and felt Foggy come up to stand next to him to get the pieces of toast that had just popped out of the toaster.

"I've been teased too, but never anything that bad. Never anything physical. Hey, you want one of slices?"

"Sure, thanks." Matt followed Foggy to the table and went back one more time to get the rest of the stuff on the counter. "Well, enough about that. Let's dig in."

"My god, this is good." It was just basic bacon and eggs, but as far as that went, it couldn't have been much better.

"Yeah, it turned out pretty nicely, huh? Wait, do we have some OJ?"

"Yeah, I'll get it."

"Thanks." Matt didn't mind having Foggy make a run for it. He had been up and about for two hours.

"So, did you talk to your dad?"

"No, not yet. So, I don't know how the match went. I'll call him after breakfast."

"Yeah, I should get in touch with my parents too. My mom gets a little over-protective. Besides, she'll probably want to know when she can come to pick up my laundry."

"She's really going to do that?"

"Naw, I'll tell her I don't want her to. It would be nice, I suppose, but I'd feel really silly about it."

"I wonder what my dad would say if I asked him to pick up my laundry." Matt smiled as he tried to imagine the mild shock in his dad's voice at such a suggestion. "You know, I actually think he would. I think parents sometimes want to feel like you really need them, even if it's just something completely mundane."

"Well, I'm sure my mom will be very relieved to hear that you cook. She thinks I'll start wasting away."

"Not on my watch, buddy. Speaking of which, you want some more toast?"

ooOoo

"Hello?" Jacks voice sounded a little groggy on the phone, even at ten a clock in the morning, but Matt instantly got the feeling that it was the right kind of groggy.

"Hey, it's me." Matt said, jokingly adding, "The lost son."

"It's been two days, I totally forgot about you. What was your name again?" Jack joked back.

"That's very funny, Dad. How did the match go?"

"What can I say, Matty? The old man still got it." Matt could hear the smile in Jack's voice.

"That's great!" He knew there was a lot of money riding on this match and felt relieved more than anything. His dad was still walking and talking, but with extra cash in his pocket.

"Yeah… Shoulda been there kiddo. You know, I was just wearing him down for the first two rounds, just blocking. I could tell right away he was gonna make a mistake, open himself up, you know? So I was just waiting for it, getting in a hit here and there. Knock-out in the third round, it was just waiting to happen. Guy never saw it coming."

"I bet he didn't. So how you holding up?"

"What's this now? You worry about me, Matty?"

"Naw, I know you don't need me around. But you worry about me right, what's the difference?"

"I'm your dad, it's my job. You wait until you got your own kids, and we'll talk again alright?"

"Okay, deal."

"So, how're you doing? Being a college student and everything."

"Well, classes haven't even started yet, so I don't think I'm official until Monday. But things are going pretty well. Me and Foggy have been around, checked out some stuff."

"Yeah? You two still getting along?"

"Dad, am I really that hard to get along with?"

"So things still going good then?"

"Yeah, everything's fine. We thought we'd hit the gym in about an hour."

"The gym, huh?" Jack sounded hesitant. He had no idea about how many hours Matt had spent at the punching bag both before and after the accident. When his son was younger it was a concern for his studies that had convinced him to keep Matt away from both fights and many of the games the kids liked to play. When it came to the latter, he often regretted his overzealous discipline. His skepticism this time had more to do with Matt's safety, however. He knew he was wrong to worry, Matt had proven repeatedly that he could keep up with his sighted friends, and Jack didn't want to be the one to hold him back. Still, he couldn't shake that gnawing concern, no matter how irrational it was.

"Dad?" Matt tried to not let his annoyance shine through too much.

"What?"

"What's with the skepticism? I'm not going to hit a lamp post on a treadmill, you know."

"I didn't say anything."

"You didn't have to. Why can't you just trust that I know what I'm doing?" The hypocrisy of asking his father to trust him when he hid so much from him wasn't lost on Matt who felt both insulted and a little guilty.

"Matty, I'm sorry. I trust you, you know that. I just don't want to see you getting hurt, is all."

"Well, I'm not made of glass, you know. And we're going."

"You're right kiddo, I'm sorry. Of course, you should go."

"I forgive you."

"So, I was wondering…" Jack hoped his next suggestion wouldn't put him back in the over-protective parent category.

"Yeah?"

"Well, I was going to stay out of your hair for a while, but I kinda missed you for the victory party, and…"

"Yes?" Matt smiled at his dad acting like a guy who was nervous about asking a girl out on a date.

"Well, I thought maybe I could take you to lunch. My next fight isn't for another couple of weeks, and I thought maybe we could celebrate like we used to."

"Yeah, I'd like that. Is tomorrow okay?"

"Tomorrow's good." The relief in Jack's voice put an even wider smile on his son's face.

"How about if I meet you outside at noon? Or did you want me to come to the Kitchen?"

"No, no… I just figured I'd borrow you for an hour. I'll take the subway, no problem."

"Listen, I've gotta go, but I'll see you then, okay?"

"Yeah. You take care now, and don't do anything I wouldn't do," Jack said jokingly.

"Okay, I promise. Bye, Dad." After hearing his father reply in kind, Matt put the phone down. He quickly found Foggy's heartbeat moving back and forth in the other room to the accompaniment of heavy footsteps. From the sounds of a zipper being pulled open and a drawer being shut close he knew his roommate was packing up his things. He could even hear the soles of a pair of sneakers rubbing against each other and the faint sounds of cotton against the harder fabric of the bag the garments were going into. It was another one of the odd paradoxes of his life. He would often miss things that other people would consider to be in plain sight, the kinds of things that societies of overwhelmingly sighted people used to communicate thoughts and ideas.

On the flip side, he had developed sophisticated ways of revealing things that were hidden. Using his vast inventory of various scents and sounds, he was an expert as piecing together what might be happening in an adjacent room, or, though with considerably less detail, even a few blocks away. By familiarizing himself with each person's distinct scent, he knew when someone he knew had been in a particular place recently, and when he met them, he could guess where they might have been or what they had done.

He knew secrets about some people he didn't want to know. Scents spoke volumes, and while he didn't usually deliberately eavesdrop on people, it was hard not to overhear things sometimes. Matt knew that Donna Wilkinson, who lived diagonally across the hall from them in the Kitchen, had a son who was in prison, even though she told everyone he lived in another town. He knew because he could tell she was lying every time she talked about him, and because he'd overheard her on the phone enough times to piece things together. He also knew that she didn't work late at a factory, like she told her other kids and everyone else. Factory workers didn't smell of smoke or cheap perfume or men's sweat coming back late at night. The scents lingered into the next day, despite her attempts to wash it all off with that lavender soap she used. He'd even heard her cry sometimes.

There were so many people with things to hide, things they didn't want others to know about, that Matt often wished he could remain as clueless as everyone else. Because there were few things harder than knowing something was wrong and not being able to help. As a result, he never asked Donna about any of these things when he passed her in the hall. She was always nice to him, always in a good mood, and he knew he wasn't supposed to know her dark secrets. So, every time she said hello, always introducing herself for good measure, he'd just smile back at her and let her go on with her broken life, feeling bad about her living her secret alone. And, feeling bad about the fact that his was just as big as hers.

All thoughts of Donna Wilkinson were pushed to the side when Foggy came in the room, and Matt found himself smiling in relief that he was living with someone who seemed to be everything he said he was. If Foggy had any secrets, they probably were of the average kind, not big, dark and dangerous.

"Okay, I'm ready, let's go," Foggy said with only about as much enthusiasm as he was able to muster in light of being anything but thrilled. At least with Matt, he didn't have to look happy, he just had to sound like he was.

"That was fast. Give me a minute, and I'll get my stuff too." Matt got up off the couch, and almost brushed against Foggy's arm when the latter didn't have the foresight to get out of his way fast enough. Matt smiled again when he caught the scent of a cotton candy jelly bean that Foggy had just treated himself to from his secret stash in the closet. But, then again, that was an average secret. It was allowed.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

"So what are we doing exactly?" Foggy felt uncomfortable in his old high school gym clothes. His sneakers had seen better days and his gray shapeless t-shirt had definitely taken one too many spins in the washing machine.

"I thought we could warm up on the treadmills and then go punch something." Matt was putting the last of his things in the locker, leaving a towel and a water bottle on the old wooden bench behind him, where Foggy was siting. His roommate was already sweating, but not from exertion.

"So you enjoy punching stuff?" Foggy watched Matt fiddle with his things in his own characteristic and highly methodical way.

"Yeah, it's the best way to blow off steam. You're going to like it, trust me."

"Okay. I'm not sure I have any extra steam, but I'll give it a shot."

"What? You never get so frustrated you just want to punch something?"

"I don't know. Maybe sometimes." He did, that much was true. But Foggy could think of plenty of reasons why Matt might have more things to be mad about.

"Is it okay with you if I leave the cane in the locker?" He and Foggy were going all the same places, and Matt figured that taking Foggy's arm would be much less conspicuous.

"Uh, yeah. Of course." Foggy was fully occupied playing out nightmare scenarios of all the different ways he might make a fool out of himself in the next hour, and it took him about a second to remind himself of why Matt had to ask him. He didn't need his permission exactly, but he did need his cooperation. "Here." Foggy stood up and held his arm behind him, briefly touching Matt's hand, and soon felt it grasp around his upper arm, just above the elbow. If Matt didn't know he was out of shape from looking at him, Foggy was pretty sure he knew from feeling his arm.

"Thanks." Matt followed Foggy through the door which lead to a staircase, taking them up into the lobby, near the entrance to the bigger room where all the equipment was kept. It wasn't very crowded, though Matt suspected that might change as soon as classes started. He could hear the hissing, high-pitched sounds of a treadmill and a stairmaster, set to the tunes of weight stacks being lifted and lowered, making a clanky metallic sound. On top of it all where all the sounds of heavy breathing and the music coming out of the radio system.

"Okay, treadmills…" Foggy quickly found the row of about five treadmills in the back of the room, and was relieved to see that only one was taken. As a matter of fact, there were only about ten people in the entire gym, which made him relax a little. If he did, in fact, fall on his nose, there wouldn't be many witnesses around. "Okay, Matt. We're here, now what?" He put his hand on the hand rail that ran along the side of the first one in line, so Matt could find it, which he did.

"Well, we warm up. I'm going to go for a run, you do whatever you want." Matt stepped up and ran his hand along the panel in front and found the window that was probably for the display, along with the subtle contours of five buttons, which he couldn't distinguish. It made sense for the information on them to be hidden underneath a layer of rough plastic since it would otherwise rub off under the strain of hundreds of sweaty fingers.

"That one's the power button," Foggy said in reference to the button Matt was touching. His own panel looked exactly the same. "Then I think the two on the far left are speed, and the other two are… incline?" Foggy decided to try it for himself and felt the belt underneath him jerk when he pushed the button to increase the speed.

"Thanks." Matt could have figured out the set-up by himself with a little experimenting, and felt just a little embarrased that Foggy had caught him not knowing what he was doing for a second. He knew he shouldn't feel that way, but he couldn't help it. It bugged him sometimes when he had problems with something completely mundane, maybe more so because of the stark contrast those things made with all of his heightened abilities.

"No problem." Foggy glanced over at Matt, who now seemed to have things under control, before concentrating on his own work-out. He decided that a slow jog probably wouldn't give him a heartattack and increased the speed by a couple of notches. So far, so good.

Ten minutes later, Foggy had had about enough, especially for a warm-up, and found himself a seat on an empty bench opposite from where Matt was still pounding the rubber belt under his feet. Still out of breath, Foggy downed big sips of water from his bottle while watching Matt steadily increase the speed. He was like an engine, his breath only slightly labored, and Foggy found himself being impressed with his roommate for the umpteenth time since they first met a few days ago. If he hadn't been blind, he probably _could_ have been on the football team in high school. Or any other sports team for that matter.

Matt had never really worked out in a modern gym before, but he very much enjoyed being able to just run like that. It was different from exploring the rooftops at night. High above the streets, he always had to pay close attention to what he was doing, and that was part of the excitement – trying to stay one step ahead of the unexpected. Now he could just completely zone out, which was more hypnotic than anything else. He let go of trying to feel anything, or even hear anything other than his own heartbeat which was like a loud drum pulsing in his head. He felt the world around him fall away into a dark void which seemed more comforting than frightening, and just focused on being in the moment, only dimly aware of Foggy's presence a few feet away.

"Matt, I'm going to go refill my bottle. I'll be right back, okay?" Foggy was wondering if Matt was even listening, he seemed like he was completely lost in what he was doing. "Matt?"

"Yeah, okay." Some of the spell was broken, and Matt felt himself returning to the present of garbled noises and a mix of sweat, metal, rubber and deodorant. The railings and panel pinched his radar sense, and as he let it probe farther out around him he could almost see the room he was in. The way his radar felt was what he suspected must be pretty close to the experience of a phantom limb, with the exception that every sensation was real and not imagined. What the two phenomena had in common was that he could feel movements and shapes outside of his physical body. When completely relaxed, the feeling was somewhat vague and entirely tactile, but with a little bit of focus, he could expand it outward or concentrate on a particular place to get much more detail, and that was when the visual cortex, for lack of other things to do, would probably kick in because it almost felt like seeing. Right then, he was "almost seeing" Foggy walk away before pulling his perceptions in again, and letting his roommate walk out of range where only his sounds would signal his exact location. Matt still felt like he had a good ten minutes at full speed left in him, and kept running, enjoying every bit of freedom it gave him.

Foggy took his time at the water fountain, stalling just a little while waiting for any indication that Matt was getting ready to slow down so they could move on to the next stop. Personally, he had no desire to put in any more work, the ten minutes he'd already completed made him feel downright accomplished. He'd never been the athletic type and had come to accept that he never would be. Walking back across the floor he locked eyes with two guys taking turns at the benchpress and they gave him one of those characteristic upward nods that teenage guys would use to acknowledge someone's presence. Foggy replied with a smile and a "hey." He felt like a fish out of water, but those guys didn't seem too bad.

"So that friend of yours," the guy who was currently in the spotting position started, with another nod in Matt's direction, "he blind or something?"

"Yeah," Foggy replied matter-of-factly as if he didn't find just about everything Matt did to be utterly remarkable.

"That's some amazing shit."

"I know." Foggy threw another glance in Matt's direction. He was still running at nearly full speed and had increased the incline as well. He supposed the most remarkable thing about it wasn't the speed, but the fact that he could run that fast and still seem completely in control of every single movement. His feet still sounded relatively soft against the surface below and his arms were still bent at the correct angle and were pumping back and forth close to his body with what seemed like relatively little effort. Now Foggy was relieved to see that he was reaching out in front of him for the buttons and beginning to slow down enough to allow a slow jog. Within thirty seconds, he was walking and reached for the towel hanging over the handrail to wipe his face.

"He cooks too," Foggy said jokingly, and with just a hint of pride, to the two guys who were watching quietly. He then heard his name called as Matt stepped off the machine he'd been battling for the last twenty minutes. "I'm over here, Matt. I'll be right there." Foggy took another big gulp of water while walking over to where Matt was already waiting, his hand reaching out for him as he got closer."

"Okay, I'm going to need a minute here," Matt said smiling between deep breaths that threatened to make his lungs explode.

"Wow, you should run the New York Marathon or something." Foggy steered Matt over to the bench he'd been sitting on a few minutes earlier. "Here, take a seat."

"Thank you." Matt sat back down against the hard bench and slowly felt his breath return to normal. He swallowed the last contents of his water bottle and was going to ask Foggy to get him a refill before his roommate beat him to it.

"Let me get you some more water." Foggy was just happy for something meaningful to do since he wasn't very good at the actual work-out portion of the gym experience.

"Thanks, I appreciate it." Matt held his bottle out, felt Foggy snatch it from his hand and listened to him walk away. He carefully removed his glasses and set them aside, pressing the towel against his face and feeling the heat of it through the soft fabric. He figured he must look like a sweaty mess, because he sure felt like one. It was a great feeling though. With his eyes still closed, he used his towel to wipe off the shades before putting them back on, making a mental note of getting a pair that was better for working out. His regular glasses were new, and a little too expensive to risk having anything happen to them. They probably didn't look right either.

"Here." Foggy walked up to Matt and touched the cold bottle to his shoulder, just as a joke.

"Ouch, that's ice cold." Matt smiled, and grabbed it. He moved to the side a little so Foggy could sit down too.

"I know, I couldn't resist. So now what? We punch something?"

"Yeah," Matt took a couple of big gulps of water which felt like ice going down. "Just give me another minute and we'll head over to the heavy bag and unleash some fury."

"Okay, unleash some fury… I like that." Foggy couldn't help smiling at Matt's determination. He also really appreciated the fact that he didn't seem to look down on his own complete lack of athleticism. There hadn't been that many people in his life he felt he could truly be himself around, but Matt was quickly becoming one of them. He had probably been judged unfairly based on appearances enough times not to do it to anyone else. Foggy also felt a little bad for him. It didn't seem fair for someone who liked to move as much as he did to have to literally feel his way around all the time. Foggy, on the other hand, was free to go for a run in Central Park whenever he wanted, and he couldn't even be bothered. But he put those thoughts aside when Matt stood up and motioned for them to get going.

"Okay, giddyup." Matt felt Foggy stand up next to him and shake his head in disbelief.

"What am I, a horse? Geez, the stuff I have to put up with," he said with a tone of feigned indignation. He knew Matt could take it.

"I'm starting to get restless here. Now, let's go over to where they have the boxing stuff, and I'll show you some moves." Matt grabbed Foggy's soft and slightly sweaty arm and allowed himself to be guided across the floor to the other end of the gym. He knew they were being watched, by the same people he knew had asked Foggy about him earlier, and did his best not to feel self-consious about it.

"Okay, so we have a big scary-looking bag three feet ahead." Foggy stopped and Matt left his side and quickly found their lifeless opponent where it was hanging from a chain in the ceiling.

"Okay, here's what you do. You watching?"

"Yeah." Foggy saw Matt first keep his hands on it, as if to make sure where it was, and then take a step back.

"Okay, when you hit it straight like this with your dominant hand, that's a jab. Well, you know it makes way more sense if it's against an actual opponent, but you just have to pretend this is the guy's head, okay?" Matt hit the bag, slowly, to make sure Foggy could see what he was doing.

Foggy nodded a couple of times while Matt was talking until he realized how useless that was. It wasn't that he would forget the guy was blind, but it's was a little hard to remember the implications of it sometimes, and change his own behavior accordingly. "Yeah, I'm with you."

"Right, and when you switch hands and punch with the other hand, that's a cross. It's like you have a preferred hand, and use the other one to defend yourself most of the time, except in this case you switch sides. So, you get a little extra weight behind it too, since it's the rear hand." Matt wasn't sure he was making perfect sense, but Foggy would give him an uh-huh every now and then and seemed to be listening.

"Okay, good. Then there's the upper-cut and the hook, which are pretty much what they sound like," Matt said, firing off a few punches into the heavy sack. "Any questions?"

"Yeah, aren't we supposed to use gloves for this?"

"Yeah, I guess. Or you could just tape them. But this is just some light punches for fun. It doesn't hurt. Well, not that much anyway." Matt let his fists hit the hard coated fabric for another round. It did hurt a little, but he was used to it. "They might have some around, you know."

"Yeah, I could go ask. But wouldn't that be like the boxing equivalent of those nasty shoes you rent at bowling alleys?" Foggy wasn't exactly eager to stick his hands into gloves covered from the inside out in layers of sweat.

"Yeah, you've got a point there. Speaking of which, we should go bowling some time." That was met with stunned silence and Matt took a step back again and smiled in Foggy's direction. "I bowl, you know. I just can't aim worth a shit."

"Uh huh. For some reason, I'm not surprised."

"Okay, let's switch it up. Try it out." Matt moved to the side and Foggy took his place. "Is there any place to sit around here?"

"Yeah, there's a mat right here. You want me to…?" Foggy went quiet when Matt found it by himself, just a few steps ahead. He sat, then lay back, using his towel for a pillow.

"Okay, let's hear it."

"Uh, you want me to try a few?"

"Yeah, that's why we're here, isn't it?" Matt was mildly amused by Foggy's hesitation.

Foggy took a look around to make sure no one was watching. Matt may not be able to see him, but there were plenty of people around with eyes that worked and he didn't want any of them aimed in his direction. He took a deep breath and hit the bag as hard as he could. It didn't budge, but Matt was right, it did feel good.

"So, there's really no one out there you want to hit over the head really hard?" Matt asked.

"Yeah, sure."

"Well, shouldn't you be hitting him a little harder then?"

"I'm hitting it as hard as I can. I told you I wasn't any good at this." Foggy backed away and let his hands drop to his sides.

"You just need to get some more weight behind it." Matt got back up and walked over to where Foggy was standing. "Here, let me see."

Foggy felt Matt place his hand on his shoulder, waiting for him to give it another try. It felt a little odd, but he wasn't technically in the way. "Like this?" Foggy gave it another try, this time actually making it move, just a little.

"Yeah, exactly. It's not just the arm. Let me show you." When Foggy stepped to the side, Matt let his hands fly, pounding the bag using equal parts control and raw power. It felt good. It always did.

"Wow, who pissed you off?"

"Not too many people. But there have been a couple." Matt's reply was deliberately cryptic, but he didn't have a lot of enemies. When he was younger, there had been Jimmy McGowan who lived down the street. Jimmy had once been the king of the schoolyard, but for the last few years, he'd spent most of his time in detention.The same went for the two guys he hung around with. In that sense, life had a tendency to right itself. He may still have been cocky as hell, but he was on the fast track to nowhere, and anyone with any amount of sense could see it a mile away.

Giving Jimmy a taste of his own medicine was a fantasy that could fuel a few rounds of punches though, if Matt let it. He was, in fact, the only person who had actually kept teasing him after the accident, though he'd stopped when he realized it wasn't winning him any points with the people he sought to impress. He'd made fun of the cane and the way Matt had to use his hands to read, and that had certainly gotten a few chuckles out of Toby and Ryan, his two most trusted sidekicks, but pretty much everyone else had grown up enough to find that brand of infantile humor to be both cruel and uninspired. Matt knew that being angry at a nobody like Jimmy was a waste of energy, but it wasn't even really about him anymore. Because people like that were everywhere, they just came in different guises.

"Hey, can I try that again?" Foggy studied Matt for a reaction. He seemed lost in his own world, drumming his fists against the rough black fabric with a determination that was almost chilling, until his trance was broken with a smile that put Foggy at ease again.

"Sure, knock yourself out." Matt stepped aside to let Foggy have another go at it, listening to his friends fists flailing more than punching. Foggy was a great guy, but he wasn't much of a boxer. "You know, it sounds like you're really starting to get the hang of it," Matt lied.

"Really? You think so?" Foggy got the feeling that Matt was only saying that to make him feel better, but that didn't matter. It was working.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

As the hours passed, Matt started feeling more and more nervous, though he couldn't put his finger on why exactly. Or rather, when he really thought about it he knew exactly why, but was somewhat upset with himself for not dealing with certain things the way he felt he should. He could jump from heights that would make most people's heads spin, so why would he be petrified of going to a stupid college party?

To some extent, he knew what to expect. He'd been to parties before, at friends' houses or even at school. They always tended to be intense. Most people he knew would take that word to mean something positive, but it was different for him. Loud music, and lots of loud people moving around in a small space made his whole world seem both smaller and more crowded at the same time. If he'd ever have to explain it to someone, he supposed it would be like imagining a funnel overflowing, where the only option was to make it bigger at the bottom to let things flow through, while missing most of them in the process. His heightened senses would turn against him. He felt blind at parties, but how on earth would he ever be able to explain that to anyone?

But there was another excuse he'd use on occasion when the frustration became too apparent. As he absent-mindedly went through his top drawer looking for something to wear, Foggy must have noticed something was up. Once again, he told his tried and tested lie to cover up a much more complicated truth.

"Matt?" To Foggy, it looked like Matt was off on another planet. He'd been running his hand through his shirts for what looked like minutes.

"Huh?"

"You need help looking for something?"

"No, I was just thinking… about some stuff."

"What's up?" Foggy wasn't sure he would be able to help with whatever was on Matt's mind, but it was unnerving to see his otherwise confident roommate look anything but.

"I'm just worried about tonight, which I know is silly, but…"

"I am too," Foggy interrupted. He really wanted to go, but he knew that mingling wasn't his strong suite.

"With all due respect, it's a little different for me." Matt immediately wished he could take it back.

"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry."

"What I was going to say was that parties are tough sometimes. Especially when I can't hear what people are saying."

"How do you mean?" Foggy was puzzled. Matt was blind, but there was nothing wrong with his hearing.

"You know how you have to look extra closely at someone who's talking when it's really noisy?"

"Yeah?" Foggy was starting to see what Matt was getting at.

"Well, I can't. Obviously." It was a lie to suggest that he had any problems registering what people were saying because he couldn't see their faces. Even with a lot of noise, he could still easily pick out someone's voice in a crowd, it was focusing on more than one thing at a time that was the problem. But it was a perfect cover for his discomfort in noisy social situations.

"Is there anything I can do?"

"No. You know, I shouldn't have said anything. We'll just go there, and I'm sure we'll have a good time." He looked up from what he was doing, and hoped that the brave face he was putting on was enough.

"Okay. Well, I guess we should get going in about thirty minutes." Foggy knew there was nothing he could say. This was the first time he'd seen so much as a dent in Matt's meticulously maintained defenses, and he didn't know how to handle it. On the other hand, he knew that Matt obviously trusted him enough to unload some things, and that at least felt good in a way.

ooOoo

"Okay, Matt. This is it." Foggy looked up at the tall building in front of them. The place they were going to was in a luxurious neighborhood farther downtown and they had taken the subway to get there. It was just a couple of stops, but Matt had seemed less than enthused about it and had actually suggested they walk to whole way there, before finally giving in.

"Alright." Matt frankly had no idea where the heck they were and couldn't be bothered trying to figure it out. His mind was on other things. Parties were tough enough with people he knew, now he'd be in a room full of strangers, most of whom he knew would be uncomfortable around him.

"Just two steps up to the front gate. You got it?" Foggy didn't need to wait for an answer since Matt had already found the steps anyway. Foggy leaned against the door and entered the lobby, which was extremely fancy. There was even a doorman, who gave them both a quick look before mumbling something about the fifth floor. Foggy turned around to wait for Matt who seemed to be dragging his feet, his cane sending a loud echo through the lobby with each tap.

"Straight ahead?" It wasn't really like he had to ask. He could hear the elevator cars moving behind the wall at the end of the lobby.

"Yeah, you want to take my arm?" Just a couple of days ago, Foggy had still been unsure of how to act when it came to whatever Matt's needs might be, but with the amount of time they'd spent together, he no longer felt self-conscious about it. Matt would either decline or accept his offer, and either way was fine.

"Okay, thanks." Matt hadn't talked much on the trip over, and he didn't feel like chatting now either. But he grabbed Foggy's arm, and that made him relax a little. At least he'd know one person at this party.

One elevator ride later and Matt knew he was in trouble. The sound level in the apartment on the other side of the door was already loud enough to make him wonder why the neighbors put up with it, and the walls seemed to actually be shaking. Then it dawned on him that this might be the only apartment on the entire floor. Whoever Eric was co-hosting this party with had to be rolling in cash.

Foggy knocked on the door a couple of times before someone opened, and he felt Matt let go of him just before the guy in the doorway had a chance to get a good look at them. He was kind of big and rough-looking and was holding a bottle of beer.

"Hey Eric! You know these guys?" he yelled into the room, and the only person Foggy even recognized was soon rushing toward them, holding his own beer.

"Hey guys, I'm glad you made it. Come on in!" Eric took a step back to let his neighbors enter. "So, this is Rick, whose family owns this place. His parents are away for the weekend. Rick, this Foggy and Matt who just moved in next door to Mark and me."

Rick put his hand out, and Foggy put his elbow in Matt's side to get him to do the same. Matt didn't usually need any prompting in that department, but he wasn't exactly acting like himself.

"Welcome," Rick hesitated for just a second, looking at Matt, "so you're…?"

"Yeah, I am." Matt cut him off, so Rick wouldn't have to utter that five-letter word people seemed to dread so much. "Well, anyway, thanks for having us."

"Sure, no problem."

"Okay, let me introduce you to some people." Eric grabbed Matt's arm and immediately felt him jerk it out of his grip.

"Sorry, but no." People grabbing him, sometimes for no apparent reason, happened all the time, but that didn't make it any less annoying. "I don't mind going with you, but I take your arm, not the other way around."

"Yeah, I probably should have known that, Sorry."

"It's okay, you're not exactly the first one to do it." Matt stepped up a little closer to him and felt around for his arm. If it weren't for the heat and sound of Eric's body, he almost wouldn't have known where to look. He could still just barely sense his presence, but everything was vague, and hazy. The noise had a numbing effect on his radar, and he couldn't sense anything at all farther away than about three feet from his head. Anything below waist level was just gone.

"Wow, this is a great place!" Foggy looked around, astounded. The place had high ceilings, bold colors, and dark hardwood floors. "Will you look at the size of that TV!"

"Yeah, I know. It's amazing, isn't it? His dad owns about twenty properties all over Manhattan." Eric took a step down, and Matt was surprised by the sudden drop-off, though he doubted his movements gave that away. Last night, he'd made back flips from ten feet, now he couldn't even feel where the damn floor was. Even though he was used to both the highs and lows of what his senses allowed, it was always a humbling experience to have to rely on his inner blind guy to get around.

"So what are we looking at here? Nineteenth century Victorian or minimalism?" Matt had sensed a slight discomfort in both Foggy and Eric as they were reminded of the fact that this was one area where he had little to contribute, and tried to ward it off with a joke.

"Well," Eric started, "I'd say neither. For starters, the walls are all deep red, which is pretty wild, if you ask me." He paused briefly. "Does that mean anything to you? Colors, I mean."

"Yeah, I could see when I was younger." For Matt, it was the same as saying that he was shorter when he was younger, or something equally undramatic. But some people seemed to be a little disturbed by the notion that he'd lost his sight at some point and wasn't born blind. It not only meant that he knew what he was missing, but it also served as a subtle reminder that whatever had happened to him could happen to anyone. "So red walls, huh? I think I get the idea."

Foggy looked around at the crowd. There were literally people everywhere, but there still seemed to be plenty of room for the Matt and Eric to move around in since everyone moved to the side after either noticing the pair themselves or being nudged by someone else or told to 'look out.'

While most people were too busy enjoying themselves to pay much attention to anything else, Matt was still aware that he was being watched. Of course, it happened all the time. He couldn't walk down the street without people looking, but that was different somehow. Unless he had to stop someone to ask a question, which happened rarely on his own turf, they weren't people he had to interact with in any way. It was easy enough to pretend they weren't there. In this kind of situation, he had his work cut out for him. To talk to people, he had to put them at ease. And in order to do that, he had to pretend that he was perfectly at ease with himself, which wasn't always the case.

Eric stopped in front of two girls and a guy, and Matt let go of him. He reminded himself to hold his head up like his dad always told him to. Having been sighted for so many years, and having the good grasp of space provided by his heightened senses, he didn't exhibit any of the typical behaviors of people who had been born blind. The only exception was that he often couldn't be bothered to try to mimic actual eye contact with people and let his head drop. It was a bad habit he was trying to shake.

"Okay, these guys are also pre-med like me. This is Dave, Hannah and Patricia." Eric shifted to the side and continued the introduction. "The newbies here are my neighbors, so go easy on 'em, okay? This is Matt and that's Foggy."

Matt and Foggy were met with a series of 'hey what's up?' before all six of them ran out of things to say.

'

"Why don't I go get the two of you a drink and you guys can talk, alright? I'll be right back." Eric took off across the room.

"So," Matt started, eager to break the silence, "are we the only freshmen here?"

"Yeah, I think so. We're all friends of either Eric's or Rick's. Although there are some assholes here that I don't know who invited," Hannah said.

"What do you mean?" Foggy was suddenly worried. He could do without the assholes.

"Let's just say that we know of at least a couple of people who don't really hold their liquor all that well, if you know what I mean," Dave said.

"Right." Foggy looked around for the supposed offenders. He didn't see anyone suspicious looking, but there were plenty of beautiful girls there. Though they all looked too sophisticated for someone like him.

"So are you all going to med school next year, then?" Matt asked, scrambling for things to talk about.

"Well Hannah and I have done everything together since first grade, so we figured we'd both try to get into NYU. You know, just stay in New York but switch schools," Patricia said. "Do you guys know what you want to major in yet?"

"Yeah, we're both going on to law school," Foggy said before Matt had the chance to open his mouth.

"Right, what he said." Matt smiled, finding himself relieved that Eric had left them with people to talk to who all seemed fairly nice. "I don't know about a specific major yet for my Bachelor's. I'll just wait and see what looks good."

"So, " Hannah started, "I hope you don't mind my asking, but how do you…? Do you have the same books or how does that work?"

"Yeah, I…"

"I'm sorry, I was just curious."

"No, that's okay. I don't mind." Matt really didn't mind as long as people's questions weren't too stupid or weird. "Well, I use Braille, so... But they're the same books, just a transcribed version. But you have to order all of that stuff in advance, so I had to register early."

"Interesting." Patricia joined in. "But that's really cool that you want to go to law school."

"Yeah, well my dad always hoped that I'd be either a doctor or a lawyer. Fortunately, I was never really interested in being a doctor anyway, and there are tons of blind lawyers so I know that's something I could do too. So that was it. But Foggy and I have both sworn off chasing ambulances, so we promise we won't hang around where you work."

"Yeah, we're going to be the nice kind of lawyers." Foggy added. He saw Eric on the other side of the room, making his way back to where they were standing, holding a big plastic cup in each hand.

"Fair enough." Dave gave Eric a quick nod when he approached. "Hey, you've got cool neighbors."

"Yeah, I thought I'd take a chance on these guys. Besides, we might be able to use a couple of good lawyers for all those malpractice suits, right? Okay, I got you guys something to drink."

Matt felt the soft plastic cup being pushed into his free hand and immediately smelled alcohol. It was a scent he was well familiar with from living with a father whose relationship with the bottle had been like a rocky on again, off again love affair. He knew the dangers of turning to alcohol for relief from the strains of daily life, but right here, at this moment, the supposed effects of a stiff drink seemed quite appealing. Just being at the party had messed with his head severely, and the thought of maybe being able to take the edge off the noise-related discomfort prompted him to take a first sip. It wasn't too bad. He noticed that Foggy was also having a taste and guessed that this was the first time for both of them. He also noticed the uncomfortable silence of conversation coming to a halt.

In an attempt to keep the conversation going, Matt tried a topic that people always seemed to have something to say about. "So, have you guys seen any good movies lately?"

It was meant as an invitation for people to talk about anything at all without having to worry about whether the given topic was something he could relate to or not. Too often there was a sense that people didn't know what to say around him since most human activity seemed to revolve around seeing in one form or another. While he didn't enjoy movies or television nearly as much as he once had, he wanted more than anything for people to simply not even think about or even notice his blindness. The fact that people had a hard time getting around in was clear from the assorted sounds of hesitation coming from those in attendance. "Nothing?"

"Yeah, there was that... Wow I can't remember the name of it now," Foggy started, instinctively sensing what Matt was trying to do. "The one with the cop and that girl."

"Wow, I think you just described every action movie out there, Foggy," Matt answered, feeling a wave of relief as he got a chuckle out of everyone.

"Yeah, I guess I did." Foggy smiled at Matt and self-consciously looked around at everyone. He noticed that they were looking around too, and suspected they might all be looking for an out. Foggy decided to beat them to it. "Hey, Matt, you want to go sit down somewhere?" He peeked over to the left and found a couple of empty seats on a nearby couch.

"Yeah, okay." Matt took another big sip of his drink so the cup wouldn't be so full, allowing him to hold it and the cane in the same hand, and grasped Foggy's arm. "Well, it was nice meeting you."

As they walked away, there was a series of nice-to-meet-you-toos followed by Dave saying "Wow, that must so totally suck," clearly not aware that Matt could hear him. He guessed that the others probably agreed, and for a moment, he did too.

The next hour and a half was spent chatting up whoever happened to stop by, though Foggy made the occasional trip over to the kitchen to get them more drinks. It was as if they had silently agreed that the only way to stifle the awkwardness of being at a party where they didn't know anyone was to drink more beer or punch. It actually seemed to work. Before ten o'clock rolled around Matt found himself stuck with a girl passed out on his arm, though he wasn't sure what to do with her. It wasn't as if he had invited her to sit down.

Foggy decided to make one final run for more drinks, though he was sure they were both going to regret it in the morning. On the way back, he bumped into a large guy who was just turning around as he passed and felt the drinks knocked out of his hands.

"What the hell are you doing?" The big guy turned around, his eyes dark with anger.

"I'm sorry. I was just walking by and you turned around." Foggy felt himself shrink back. There was something really scary about the whole situation, and Foggy's mind instinctively jumped back to some old memory of an article he'd read about steroid use among football players. The guy he was up against looked like someone had just flicked a switch in his brain.

"You trying to pin this on me? Look at what you did to my shirt, asshole." Mr. Steroids was leaning in, and Foggy took a step back. Then he heard a familiar voice that surprised him even though he should have learned by now that surprises was the name of the game for a certain roommate of his.

"Leave him alone!" The rage shot through Matt's body and he stood up, letting the girl on the couch fall to the side as he extricated his arm. He felt a little dizzy, but the anger seemed to cut through the haze of two hours of drinking. He could still barely make out his surroundings, but if the situation was anything like it seemed, he wouldn't need to.

"Matt, what are you doing?" Foggy hissed as a sudden surge of lucidity took hold of him and made him see the situation with more clarity than he would have wanted to.

"I'm telling this guy to back down," Matt answered defiantly and noticed that the stir of the crowd had died down, leaving only the background music. He was dimly aware of being stared at by an entire room. There was the occasional warning from the crowd and someone urging the guy, who's name turned out to be Ron, to let it go.

"Oh, you really don't want to mess with me." Ron stepped away from Foggy and came up to where Matt was standing.

"Or what? You'll take a swing at me or something?" Matt felt another emotion rip through his body. Mixed up with the rage was a sense of excitement, the thrill of knowing that he could beat this guy. In fact, he could have probably killed him if he wanted and he didn't even need his senses to be in top shape to do it either. Next, Ron did something which prompted a stunned reaction from the crowd when Matt felt the cane snatched from his hand.

"Now what are you going to do?" Ron was obviously enjoying this too.

"Oh, I have to hand it to you Ron, or whatever the hell your name is. Taking a cane from a blind guy, that's pretty good. You know, I'm starting to wonder if that's worse than taking candy from a baby, but I'm not crying so I guess not." Matt folded his arms and waited for Ron's next move. He was playing around with different scenarios in his head, wondering if actually punching this guy would get him expelled.

"Holy shit, dude! What do you think you're going to do to me, huh? I could fucking snap you like a twig."

"I haven't decided yet, but the way you're talking right now, you're only improving my aim." Matt heard another stunned sound from the crowd and someone in the back yelling "Score one for the blind guy."

"Oh, and for the record, I actually have a name." Matt knew he should have let that one slide, but he couldn't, turning instead toward the sound of that lone voice at the other end of the room.

"Oh yeah?" Ron was now waving his hand in Matt's face. That was so annoying.

"Yeah, and would you stop it. You think I don't know you're doing that or something? I don't know where the hell you get your information, but blind does not equal stupid, okay?"

"Yeah, whatever man." At least a couple of people must have finally woken up from the spell they were under as Ron was dragged away by a couple of friends.

"God, Matt, I'm really sorry." Matt felt Eric's hand on his shoulder, but was busy looking for Foggy in the crowd. It was getting more difficult as people had started moving around again, and the noise was soon returning to the same level of cacophony which had set the tone for the party up until a couple of minutes ago.

"I'm alright, thanks. Can I have my cane back?"

"Yeah, of course. I'll go get it." Eric was soon lost in the big mass of people again, and Matt couldn't help feeling vulnerable, stranded where he was standing in between the couch and an over-sized coffee table. He listened for Foggy's voice again and heard his roommate talking to someone.

"…oh yeah, he totally could have knocked him out. I saw him box earlier, he's really good." Matt smiled briefly at the thought of Foggy standing up for him. It was apparent from his tone of voice that he believed every word of it too.

Eric soon showed up with his cane. "I don't know what's wrong with that guy, but you shouldn't have provoked him like that. He gets really nasty when he drinks."

"Oh, so he's like a perfect angel when he's sober?" Matt didn't like anyone trying to make excuses for that guy.

"No, no… I don't even like him. He's a friend of Rick's, they go back a long time. Again, I'm really sorry about all this."

"Yeah, but it's not your fault. Besides, no harm no foul, right?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Would you really have tried to punch him?"

"What do you mean 'try'?" Matt asked, an enigmatic smile forming on his lips. "He never would have known what hit him."

"Huh?"

"Now, would you point me in the direction of the bathroom? I must have had like a gallon of beer since I got here." Matt felt the intoxication hit him again, and realized how drunk he was when he took a step forward, and almost couldn't stand up straight.

"Hey, I can take you. You don't look too hot."

Matt nodded, and felt a mild wave of nausea wash over him. He decided to forget about his pride and just let Eric help him out. The alcohol and overstimulated senses combination was a little too much to deal with. When he closed the door behind him and found himself finally alone in what must have been a huge bathroom, he felt overcome by an empty feeling from another piece of innocence lost. Standing up to Ron had felt good, but that feeling had subsided. He just wanted to go back to his room and crash on the bed. He longed for the relative silence, and being able to feel things around him. And, he'd had enough of being watched, his every move scrutinized. Foggy was cool, he'd understand.

ooOoo

Fifteen minutes later, Foggy was trying to hail a cab. Neither one of them was fit to walk back and taking the subway didn't seem like such a great idea either. He'd already decided to pay for it, and Matt didn't really argue with him this time. He glanced back at his roommate who was leaning against the building. He seemed to be doing okay, but Foggy knew they would both feel like crap in the morning. It seemed to take forever until a cab finally pulled up next to them. Neither one of them said much on the way home, or while getting ready for bed. They had already worked out a routine where Matt did most of his bathroom stuff over the kitchen sink while Foggy hogged the space in the bathroom with the mirror, seeing as he actually had a use for it.

It was a great feeling crawling in under the covers, and Foggy listened as Matt finished the rest of his business in the bathroom before joining him in the bedroom and plopping down on his bed on the other side of the room. "Are you doing okay?"

"No. I feel like shit. I'm never going to drink that much ever again."

Foggy smiled at that. "Yeah, same here. I can't believe you stood up to that guy. You're insane, you know that right?"

"Am I? I don't know. It just makes me angry when people are like that."

"I just can't believe how brave you are. I would never have the guts to do that."

"You know, this might sound strange, but stuff like that is the easy part."

"What are you talking about?"

"I don't know, I can't think straight right now. We'll talk about this some other time."

"Okay. Good night."

"Good night. And thanks for everything."

Foggy had no idea what exactly he had done to deserve Matt's gratitude, but there was no point in asking. He was already fast asleep and before long, Foggy was too.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Matt woke up feeling more sluggish than he could ever remember feeling, with the exception of waking up in the hospital. That was definitely worse, for a long list of reasons, but this was certainly no picnic. His head felt heavy and ached with a throbbing pain, the noises were more jarring than usual and he was incredibly thirsty. What was worse was that the empty feeling from last night was still there, magnified, and he questioned his reasons for getting up at all until he remembered his lunch date with his dad. He listened for Foggy, but he wasn't in the room, which was just as well. Matt didn't feel like talking.

He sat up and felt a little dizzy. He focused on his radar and found that it was mostly intact though things were definitely a little fuzzier than usual. It was always fuzzy in the sense that things and people were ill-defined, lacking in any kind of detail, but it was normally very reliable in letting him sense the presence or absence of objects so that he would know where one ended and the next began and whether the space in front of him was open or not. He had thanked his lucky star for that ability more times than he could remember, but for the moment he found himself just being tired of the darkness. With the exception of his dreams, which had also started to fade in intensity like an old movie, it was ever-present and unyielding.

Suddenly he heard Foggy's familiar footsteps come down the hall and when the door to their suite opened, the scent of fresh bagels immediately permeated the air. It smelled really good, and Matt could hear his stomach growl and feel his mouth water. His hunger took precedence over the mild nausea, and he sighed while getting to his feet, his legs feeling wobbly.

"Hey, did you get bagels?" Matt managed a faint smile as he got to the doorway.

"Yeah, how did you know?"

"It smells like bagels in here." Matt walked over to the couch and threw himself onto it. Lying down still seemed like a good idea.

"Wow," Foggy said, sniffing the inside of the paper bag he'd just brought home from the store, "is it really that strong?"

"I think my nose got kicked into overdrive at some point."

"I thought you said that stuff was a myth."

"Yeah, it's... I think it's just practice really," Matt said through the sofa cushion he'd found to put over his head. Not that it actually helped with the headache or anything.

"Are you okay?" Foggy was tired too, and a little achy, but it wasn't too bad. Matt, on the other hand, was as white as a ghost.

"I think this is what they call a hang-over."

"Yeah, I'm feeling it too. You really don't look so hot."

"How bad is it?" Matt suddenly got concerned when he realized he was meeting his dad in less than two hours. He didn't want him to know he'd been drinking.

"You look like you just had the flu or something."

"I've got to take a shower." He got up again, still a little shaky, and hit his shin on the coffee table. "Damn it! Did you move this?"

"What? The table? No, I didn't move anything. I promise."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell at you. Man, that hurt." Matt ran his hand across his leg to assess the damage and then limped toward the bathroom.

"Don't worry about it. I'll start some coffee, okay?"

"Sure, great."

Matt showered for ten minutes and brushed his teeth three times longer than usual. As far as he was concerned, any trace of alcohol that a normal person would be able to smell was gone. When he was done shaving, he checked his face for signs of anything out of the ordinary, though he wasn't sure what that might be. Were there bags under his eyes maybe? If there were, at least the shades would cover that up. Suddenly his hands stopped in their tracks, and his exploration became more methodical. How much had his face changed in the last few years? Did he look all grown up now? He traced the contours of his cheekbones but had no real way of knowing if they felt different than they had the last time he saw his own reflection. There was no way to subjectively know what he actually looked like to other people, but there was at least some humor in it. Even at eighty, he'd still look fifteen in his own mind.

At the breakfast table, Matt was reminded once again of how great it was to have Foggy around. Foggy was uncomplicated, and easy to talk to. At the same time, Matt felt a little worried that he might end up becoming too dependent on him. Not in the sense that he technically needed him for very many things, but that making new friends would turn into a big enough chore that he just wouldn't bother, that having Foggy around would make him complacent. He was even more worried that Foggy might end up in the same position because of him. Although that might happen anyway. Foggy wasn't exactly sure of himself or comfortable in big groups of people, but at least he didn't walk around under an imaginary neon sign that said 'Blind! Approach at your own risk, since it might be contagious or at the very least incredibly creepy and weird.'

"So, where are you guys going?" Foggy asked in between bites from his cinnamon raisin bagel with cream cheese.

"I don't know. There are a couple of places down the street. We never go anywhere fancy."

"Can you believe classes finally start tomorrow?" Foggy was very excited at the thought of it. Maybe then it would sink in that all of this was real.

"What's your first class?"

"Social studies. You have that one too."

"Right. You're right. I guess I need to look at my schedule, figure out where to go. I've been putting it off, I think."

"Why? Aren't you psyched about it?"

"Yeah... I'm very psyched about it." Matt _was_ psyched about it. And possibly more nervous than he'd ever been in his life.

ooOoo

Matt was always easy to spot. He was taller than average, sported a head full of red hair and, of course, always carried a white cane everywhere he went. But all those things aside, there was something rather striking about him. The way he held himself just seemed to command attention. When Jack Murdock picked his son out in the crowd, his heart filled with equal parts love and pride, sprinkled with a tiny hint of regret. It was hard not think of what could have been if that tragic accident had never happened. But he pushed that thought aside as he came closer and saw Matt's face light up with a knowing smile.

"Hey, Dad." Matt had no problems picking Jack out of a crowd either as long as he wasn't too far away. It was everything from his distinctive scent, his gait, the sound of his breath, and – when close enough – the sound of his heartbeat. Even his shape, though indistinct, was recognizable at close range.

"Hey, Matty." Jack laughed, adding "Am I going to have to change my after shave?"

"Don't. Then how am I going to find you?"

"Yeah, I'll stick to this one then."

"Well, you've been using it for as long as I can remember. Why change now?"

"So, how are you, kid? You look a little tired."

"Well, we were at a party last night, and it got kind of late. I have a killer headache."

"You didn't drink, did you?" Jack took another close look at Matt. He looked a little pale.

"No, it just got a little late, that's all." Matt felt terrible lying to his dad about the reason for his nasty hangover. For once, he was grateful he couldn't look him in the eye.

"Alright. Well, don't wear yourself out before school starts, you hear." Jack put a hand on Matt's shoulder and gave it a quick squeeze.

"I won't." Matt quickly decided to change the topic. "So, you won, huh?" He put his cane forward and made a motion to start moving when he felt Jack's hand on his shoulder once again, holding him back.

"I sure did! Here, let me show you." Without asking, Jack snatched the cane from Matt's left hand and leaned it against the railing running along the steps. "Put your hands out."

"Dad, please. Not here." Matt sighed. Jack had taken to showing him little recaps from his matches soon after the accident, by letting Matt put his hands on his fists and demonstrating his winning moves. It was a fun little game they shared, but this didn't feel like the time or place, and Matt's head was throbbing.

"What's the matter, son?"

"People are looking. Okay?"

"They're not looking. And since when do you care about that anyway?"

"Oh, I don't know. Since I've been trying to make a good impression, I guess."

"You sure everything is okay?" Jack was worried that someone had given Matt a hard time, and the thought of it made his blood boil.

"Yeah, it's nothing. I just have a really bad headache. I think it could be a migraine or something."

"You want to skip lunch and go back and rest for a while?"

"No, let's go. I think I just need to eat something." Matt felt his dad's hand against his, and obligingly grabbed onto his arm. It was so incredibly strong, and he could feel the muscles just underneath the skin.

"So, where are we going?" Jack walked the two of them over to the nearest cross-walk and looked down the street.

"There are a couple of diner type places on this block, I think. And there's Indian."

"_Indian?_ You know I don't eat any of that foreign stuff. It's too spicy."

"You know that makes you sound like you're about a hundred years old, right? If you want something traditional, maybe we could try and score you some shepherd's pie or something."

"Are you picking on me?" Jack smiled, he really didn't mind the gentle teasing. "You know I actually am about a hundred years old. Show some respect for your elders."

"Dad, you're forty-two. Anyway, pick one that looks good."

"Huh?"

"A restaurant."

"Right, right… A restaurant." Jack stopped at reasonably placed diner about a block and a half from Matt's building, and decided that it would most likely meet their needs. "Okay, grab the door on your side. You got it?"

"Yeah, no problem." The first smell that hit him when they walked inside was of deep-fried food. French fries, fried chicken, fish and chips, and onion rings. Underneath that were a lot of more subtle and appetizing smells, and Matt generally found the place to his liking, even though the smell of french fries didn't help with the mild nausea he was still experiencing.

They found a booth in the back and placed their orders with the waitress. It didn't take more than ten minutes for their sandwich orders to come back. While they were waiting, Jack tried hard to keep Matt's interest, talking about his fight, but Matt didn't seem to be listening.

"You sure you're okay, Matty?" Jack got the sneaking suspicion this wasn't just a headache. He wasn't going to get on his case about drinking if that's what it was, but his son seemed to have a serious case of the blues.

"I don't know, Dad." Matt put his sandwich back down on the plate and grabbed the napkin to wipe off his hands. He wasn't sure where to start. Despite their closeness, he'd never really had a deep talk with his father about certain things, for various reasons.

"Hey kid, I don't use all those big fancy words you know, but you know you can tell me anything. Did someone say something to you?"

"No... I don't know. People don't say anything to me. I mean, I guess that's the problem. Everything here is so different from back home, Dad. No one knows me, and it's like people don't even know how to talk to me."

"Oh, Matt." Jack felt his heart sink. "People are always gonna be afraid of things they don't understand. Just be yourself, give 'em a chance to get to know you."

"I just feel really stupid. I _should_ be okay with this. I mean, I thought I was, and now everything just feels so weird and backwards and I don't know what to do. And then classes start tomorrow, and the whole thing is starting to feel… just too big."

"Do you have all the stuff you need? For your classes?"

"Yeah, it's not that. I met with that disability services lady, and she seems pretty cool. I got all my books too, so you don't need to go yell at anyone." Matt smiled briefly at the memory of his dad taking it out on some poor lady from the school district when one of his book orders got delayed two months. "It's just... I'm going to have to go talk to all my teachers tomorrow before class, and it's fucking embarrassing." He regretted his use of the 'f word' for a second, but doubted his dad would call him on it this time.

"I know it is."

"But you _don't_ know. No one knows about this stuff, 'cause normal people don't have to deal with this shit." Matt felt the anger build up inside. He was mostly angry with himself for even feeling this way. Had he been kidding himself for the last few years? He'd met Stick, he'd learned all these amazing things and the things he _couldn't_ do hadn't seemed to matter all that much. But suddenly, all of that seemed like a strange fantasy. In the real world, no one cared if he could sniff out a half-eaten burrito two blocks away.

"Now don't go telling me you're not normal, kid. You're no different from anyone else, and you need to remember that." Jack was starting to feel a little overwhelmed. Matt had rarely spoken this candidly about these things before. On the other hand, it wasn't surprising that moving out and starting college would require its own set of adjustments.

"But I am, don't you get that? I can't _see_, Dad. Normal people don't need help reading a freaking blackboard, they don't need special computers, and they most certainly don't have to stop someone and ask what street they're on! I hate it when I can't do something. I hate that I don't even know what my roommate looks like, I hate watching movies and not knowing what the hell is happening and having to ask about it, and I hate being treated like some alien from another planet!" Matt bit his lip and tried to calm himself back down. He wasn't sure where all of this was coming from. Just a couple of days ago, he'd been so determined to work hard and get good grades and show everyone what he was made of. Maybe last night had made it finally sink in that he'd be 'different' for the rest of his life. Whatever his abilities might be, he didn't quite live in the same world as everyone else. Though there would always be times when he wished he could have his sight back, he used to believe he'd made peace with it.

"Matt, I don't know what to say." Jack shook his head a little even though he knew Matt couldn't see it. "But, you're my hero, you know that?"

"I never asked to be. I don't want to be an inspiration or a stupid poster child for 'overcoming adversity' or whatever the hell they call it. I didn't ask for any of this."

"I know you didn't, and I can't tell you how many times I've prayed for you to get your eyes back. At first, I was worried sick about you, but you were such a trooper. And then you went and impressed the hell out of me. Look at you! You can do all these amazing things, Matty. You're so smart I sometimes wonder if you're even my kid." Jack felt relieved when he saw a hint of a smile on Matt's lips. "You're going to be a great lawyer, I know that. And some day, you're going to meet a nice girl and have a family. You know how I know this?"

"No." Matt was starting to feel a little better.

"Because I know _you_. You've got guts kid, and you're not a quitter. You never have been."

"Okay." Matt smiled briefly again and took a bite out of his sandwich.

"I know you're probably thinking you're going to have to be twice as smart as all those other kids. But I don't worry about that, because I know you _are_ twice as smart. It sure as hell isn't fair, but I know you can do it."

"Okay, I'll try my best." Matt was surprised by his dad's relative eloquence on the matter. Maybe he'd underestimated him. He knew his dad wasn't stupid - quite the opposite - but his lack of formal education made it easy to forget that he had his own brand of wisdom to dole out on occasion. While they were having a heart to heart, Matt thought of something else to say, even though he felt foolish for just thinking about it. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, anything you want." Jack picked up a few fries off his plate before they got cold.

"Am I..." Matt cleared his throat and felt his cheeks turn red, "Am I good-looking?"

Jack laughed a little, surprised by the question. "You're asking the wrong person, you know. Because you look like your mom, and I always thought she was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen."

"Really?"

"Yeah, she was something else, alright. Be glad you take after her and not me. But you're a good-looking kid, you know that."

"I guess. Thanks." He suddenly felt the urge to take a leak. The good thing about having his nose was that his inability to read signage rarely affected his ability to find the nearest men's room. He grabbed the cane that was lying on the floor along the edge of their booth and stood up with his back against the table. "I need to go to the bathroom."

"Okay, let me have a look and see if I can find it for you." Jack found the sign relatively close, and was relieved to discover he could probably get Matt there with verbal instructions only. With the state of mind Matt was in, he didn't need to have his dad take him to do his business. "Okay, straight ahead until you get to the wall, then go right 'til you find an opening and go straight through there to the door."

There weren't any people or tables in the way, and Jack watched Matt follow his instructions to the letter, arriving at his destination in short order. Because Matt was so capable, Jack almost forgot sometimes what a challenge it had to be for his son to do all the things he had to do. He often wished Matt would be a little more open to asking for help from other people, something he stubbornly refused to do unless it was absolutely necessary. Wanting complete independence was a good thing, but so were getting things done in a reasonable amount of time and accepting one's limitations.

Right after the accident, when Matt was still in the hospital, Jack had gone home one evening after a late work-out and blocked the bedroom windows and turned out the lights, trying to imagine what must be going through Matt's head. He could only take it for about fifteen minutes before the grief got to him and he went to turn the lights back on. It was easy enough for him, but his kid would never have that choice. For Jack, the reality of it had really sunk in when Matt got his first cane. It was such a visible reminder of how much his life had changed, and it would forever set him apart from everyone else. He knew Matt was still the same person, but would the rest of the world see it that way? Judging from the talk they'd just had, the answer was no.

"Over here, Matty!" Jack called out when his son reappeared.

"I know, Dad. Geez. What kind of half-ass blink do you take me for?" Matt knew his dad didn't approve of him using certain terms to describe himself, and for a second he half-expected him to comment. He didn't.

"What do you say we get some dessert, huh?"

"Yeah, 'cause chocolate and ice cream can fix anything, right?"

"No, but I sorta figured that it can't hurt. What are you in the mood for?"

"What do they have?" Some of the scents floating around really made his mouth water, but it was tricky trying to extract entire dishes out of the myriad of aromas.

"Well, let's see." Jack reached over and got the triangular plastic display at the center of the table. "We've got lemon meringue pie, cheesecake, hot fudge sundae, mud pie, pecan pie, cherry pie, apple pie, and German chocolate cake."

"That's a lot of pie."

"That _is _a lot of pie. Any of that sound good?"

"Yeah. Can I have the lemon meringue pie?"

"You can have whatever you want." Matt sounded almost like when he was much younger and asking for a treat, which struck Jack as a little funny. "I just want you to be happy, son," he cleared his throat, "so if there's ever anything… You talk to me, okay?"

"Are we still talking about dessert?" Matt smiled, and waited while his dad got the attention of a waitress and made orders for one slice of lemon meringue and one slice of apple pie.

"No, I just want you to know that there's nothing I wouldn't do for you. You're the only good thing I ever did."

"Dad… About what I said earlier. I don't want you to think I'm not happy. I really am. I just feel a little overwhelmed right now. I guess I just need to figure out a way to deal with some stuff."

"And I know you will."

"I mean, being like this… People think it's really horrible, and it's not. Sure, I miss seeing sometimes, but the worst part is that people seem to get all kinds of ideas about it, and they don't think you can do anything or even talk about normal everyday stuff."

"What about Foggy?"

"He's not like that. But I know he was nervous in the beginning."

"But you two have spent a lot of time together. Don't you think there are other kids like that?"

"_Kids?_ I'm not exactly a kid anymore, Dad. But I see your point. I guess I just don't like being someone people have to get used to." Matt leaned back when the waitress came back with their desserts. He stabbed at his slice of pie a couple of times before digging in.

"Well, I always figured that if you can't change your circumstances, the only thing you can change is your attitude."

"Please tell me you didn't hear that on Oprah."

"Right, now that you're gone I sit around watching TV all day. No, but I heard someone say that once, and I thought it was good advice."

"Yeah, it's easier said than done though. So who are all these wise people you hang around with?"

"You live as long as I have, doing the things I do, you run across a couple. There's lots of smart folks out there, and they're usually not the ones you think. It's funny how that works."

"Yeah."

"Speaking of wise people, I have something for you." Jack pulled a plastic container out of his shoulder bag and slid it across the table, tapping on the lid a couple of times so Matt would know where it was, and watched as he set his fork down and quickly examined it. "You know what it is?"

"A box?" Matt already knew what it was. He'd smelled it when his dad first showed up but hadn't really connected the dots. He opened the lid. "Chocolate chip cookies?"

"Yeah, Aunt Grace made them." Grace was nobody's aunt, but the whole building called her that anyway. She predated all the rest of them, having lived there since the forties.

"Wow, that's really nice of her." Matt felt a little touched by the gesture, even though he and Grace had been pretty close. She lived on the same floor as them and in lieu of having any biological grandparents around, she'd looked after him when he was a kid and his dad was out at strange hours.

"She's real proud of you, asks about you every day."

"Well, tell her I said thank you. Wow, Foggy's gonna love this. Somehow I just know he's a cookie person."

"You know, I think he is too. But you should eat some yourself. Don't go wasting away on me now."

"I think freshmen are supposed to gain fifteen pounds, not lose them. But I'll get to work on that right away." Matt smiled reassuringly. It was really nice having Jack around. Though he'd never told him about his gifts, or what they allowed him to do, he could always be himself around his dad in every other way.

They finished their meal while chatting about the kind of stuff they always talked about, and Jack said goodbye to Matt just outside the restaurant, since his son refused to have him walk him back to his building. Jack stopped to watch Matt walk up the street, and head over to the other side, with confidence and without hesitation, before he himself headed for the subway and the empty apartment that now seemed too big without Matt in it. Maybe he'd grow used to it. Maybe he wouldn't.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Foggy didn't usually wake up at six o'clock in the morning, a full thirty minutes before Matt's alarm clock was set to go off, but this was no ordinary day. The sun had just come up and the light cast long bright beams through the window, illuminating each little piece of dust that was floating around in the air, seemingly free of the gravitational pull that affected everything else. He sat up and looked outside. The city was slowly coming to life, and there were people already up and about and cars moving by. It was a perfect morning. Matt was on his back with his arms spread out, and showed no signs of waking up, though Foggy noticed him stir and roll over on his side with a deep sigh when Foggy got to his feet and tip-toed across the floor. Apparently, he didn't tip-toe quietly enough because by the time he reached the doorway by the foot of his roommate's bed, Matt suddenly sat up and opened his eyes wide..

"Wow! Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"That's okay. I'm a light sleeper. What time is it?" Matt scratched his head and tried to snap back from the shock of waking up too fast.

"Six."

"That early?"

"Yeah, I'd go back to sleep, but I don't think I can. I'll go start some coffee, okay?"

"Yeah," Matt fell back down against his pillow, "I'll be there in a minute."

A thousand thoughts seemed to go through Matt's head. He was definitely having that first day of school feeling and it was inevitable that his mind wandered back to the first day of first grade, and his first day of high school. The first memory was one of great anticipation. His dad had walked him there, and he was still young enough to hold his hand, letting go just as they headed up to the school building a few short blocks from the apartment. He could still remember the look of pride in his dad's face when he squatted down for that mandatory father-son talk. He was told to be nice to his teacher, not get into any trouble and pay attention in class. Then Jack had stood up and given him a push on the back, as if to steer him in the right direction and waited while he ran up the steps. That first day had been a good one. His teacher, Ms Davila, had the face of an angel and had seemed to take an instant liking to him. He also found a friend in the little blonde girl with pig tails who had the desk next to his. They had played together for the first couple of weeks until he found out the hard way that it wasn't okay to play with girls anymore. But the taunts came later and that first day remained a very happy memory.

His first day of high school had been very different since it marked his first day of school after the accident. That time his dad hadn't walked him to school. He'd had plenty of training over the summer and had specifically been taught to get there and back and also find his way around the building reasonably well, so there was no need. That morning had been strangely uneventful around the house as both he and Jack desperately tried to downplay the significance of that day. The one feeling that seemed to dominate the experience for Matt was self-consciousness. His accident had made the news and it still had the whole neighborhood talking so he could definitely kiss the innocent days of relative anonymity good-bye. Though that part wasn't all bad. At least he didn't have to explain the addition of his new equipment since everyone already knew he'd lost his sight. Only one or two of his friends had even come around since the accident and everyone else he knew had come up to him in school to make awkward excuses for their absence, always coupled with a "Well, it's good to see you back." And it was good to be back, settling into some kind of routine again, and his popularity with the teachers hadn't faded. Except this time, there was a slight discomfort in their interactions since there was now this huge thing to be addressed and worked around, and it was getting in the way of the spontaneity he'd always enjoyed.

While elementary school had started on a high note and then gotten worse, his first day of high school was also the worst day of high school. Things got better. He found new friends and life got back to a new kind of normal. And he'd learn to use his powers too which helped build up his confidence, the same confidence that was now being challenged in new ways. But maybe this was just like high school all over again, and every day after this one would get a little better.

"Hey, Matt," Foggy whispered when he stuck his head in the door, "did you go back to sleep?"

"No, I'm awake. I'm just taking a minute." Matt sat back up again and climbed out of bed. "Okay, minute's over. Where's the coffee?"

"Now I feel _so_ used."

"So, what are we having? You want me to cook some eggs?"

"Would you? We still have a couple of bagels too... Maybe we should save those for lunch."

"Right, lunch... I haven't even thought that far ahead, I'm still trying to figure out how to survive the morning."

"Well, we have plenty of time, so there's no rush."

"Actually, we need to get there early so I can talk to whoever's teaching the class."

"Oh, right. I forgot."

"Yeah, I come with special instructions. No way around that one, I'm afraid." Matt got the pan out to make scrambled eggs while Foggy sat down at the kitchen table with his coffee.

"So, how early do you think we need to be there?"

"I don't know. Twenty minutes before class starts maybe. I'd just prefer to get there before everyone else shows up. It'll just be a brief talk. I'm not _that_ complicated."

"This might sound stupid, but what do you need them to do exactly? It's just listening anyway, isn't it?"

"Well, I guess it's kind of like how most things are both show and tell. If it's mostly 'tell' I'm fine. If there's a lot of 'show' you're either gonna have to show it a different way or just tell me about it. But, usually it's not a big deal."

"So social studies should be fine, you think?"

"Yeah, I hope so. But I did manage to get out of the arts requirement, so that's pretty nice."

"They're going to make you take a different subject?"

"Yeah, probably. Maybe I'll just go with the cliché on this one and pick music. I assume it has to be something 'artsy' anyway."

"You know, I'm really nervous about all of this."

"Yeah, me too." Matt gave the scrambled eggs with cheddar cheese one last stir. "Here, it's ready if you want."

"Seriously. What if we really suck at this?" Foggy grabbed the wooden spoon Matt was holding and helped himself.

"I know. On the other hand, there _must_ be bigger idiots than us out there who can do this kind of thing. I wouldn't know for certain, but there _has_ to be, right?" Matt laughed at the thought of how they were both probably working themselves up over nothing. "Right?"

"Oh yeah." Foggy said, nodding to himself.

"You don't sound convinced."

"No," Foggy laughed, "we are so screwed."

ooOoo

Right according to plan, Matt and Foggy were the first two people to show up where their first class was being taught. The room was large and set up like an auditorium with steps running down the side of the room to the open area in front of the blackboard where there was a small desk. Matt immediately heard someone moving around down there, shuffling papers and shifting his weight nervously. Their teacher was obviously a man, as revealed by the smell of his after shave, and it seemed like they weren't the only ones who were anxious on the first day of a new school year.

"You want me to take you down there?" Foggy was pretty sure Matt would decline his offer, but decided to throw it out there anyway.

"No, I'm good. I hear someone moving around."

"Okay, I'll grab a couple seats."

Matt followed the staircase down, and noticed the man in front of him stop what he was doing, and he could hear his heartbeat pick up slightly. He probably wasn't older than maybe thirty-five, at most, and Matt guessed that he might very well be his first blind student. He kept walking across the floor until his cane slammed into the desk and then introduced himself. "Hey, I'm Matt Murdock. I was told that I should come and talk to you before class, so…"

"Oh yes, of course. I'm Ben Coates, but please call me Ben. I still keep thinking I'm too young to be a mister anything."

"Okay, Ben it is." Matt smiled reassuringly, trying to put his teacher at ease since he seemed a little wound up.

"So, I don't really know how to… I was told I'd have a blind student this semester, but I'll have to admit that you're my first so you're going to have to tell me what to do here. I mean, do you need to sit in the front row?"

"No, I can sit anywhere." Matt tried to think through his list of things to say, and really had to struggle against the impulse to just say 'never mind' and walk away. On an intellectual level, he knew that there were certain things that needed to be addressed in order to achieve that perfectly level playing field everyone kept talking about, but he wasn't comfortable asking for anything. Sensing that his response from a moment ago might need elaboration, he added "I don't see anything anyway, so it doesn't matter."

"Oh, okay… Well, I've been told to give my notes to the disability services people, and I'd be happy to do that, of course. Actually, I have your first hand-out right here. And you wanted someone to take notes?"

"Yes, that would be great, thanks. I also have some stuff, I guess I'm supposed to show you." Matt took the crisp Braille-embossed piece of paper that was handed to him and folded up the collapsible cane he'd brought, since it was easier to stow, and put that on the desk so he could get to the things in his backpack. He fished out a tape recorder and a Braille note taker. "I was told that I could tape things in class, so I hope that's still okay, and this thing here is for taking notes."

"Sure, that's perfectly fine. Now, what do you need from _me_?" Ben sounded genuinely willing to help so Matt decided to swallow his pride and tell it like it was. He knew he shouldn't feel ashamed, but embarrassment was a hard feeling to shake.

"Well, I need for you to read out loud anything you write on the blackboard, or if you have slides or something. Same thing with pictures or maps. Anytime you're showing something to the class, I kind of want to know what it is. There's no need to do a whole story or anything, just enough so that I can figure it out basically."

"Could you maybe give me some examples maybe of how I would do that?"

"Okay, I'll try to think of something." Matt paused for a few seconds while scrambling for something that would give Ben an idea of what he meant. "Well, let's say you have a map out of Mongolia or something and you want to show Genghis Khan's expansion into China, pointing to it and saying that he moved from here to there doesn't really tell me anything. But if you say something like 'he moved south across the border into modern-day China' that gives me something to work with. I don't know if… I mean, I hope that makes sense."

"Oh, that's it? I think I could do that." Ben sounded relieved and the feeling was contagious.

"Well, it's not exactly rocket science or anything. I mean, unless you're teaching rocket science, of course." Matt heard Ben laugh briefly.

"Hey, I don't know the first thing about it. But you let me know if there's anything else, okay?"

"Okay, I will. Thanks a lot." Matt got his cane and snapped it straight and started walking back toward the stairs. That really wasn't too bad, and Ben seemed very nice. Matt didn't really know what it was he had expected, but he realized he'd been worried his teachers might think of him as an extra chore or something. So far, that didn't seem to be the case at all. He realized he forgot to talk to him about taking tests, but decided that that could wait.

"Hey, Matt, over here." Foggy half-whispered when Matt reached the row where he was sitting.

"Anyone else sitting here?" He asked even though he knew the coast was clear. The room had slowly started filling with people, but there was no one between him and Foggy.

"No, you're fine." Foggy waited for Matt to take his seat. "So, how did it go?"

"Much better than I thought."

"That's good." Foggy thought about it for a second. "Wait, what did you think was going to happen?"

"Well, that was kind of what I was hoping for, but I'm just not very good at this kind. It's silly, I know." Matt grabbed his things from his bag and put them on the little table attached to his chair, but found that it wasn't big enough, and put the tape recorder on the next seat.

"Hey, what is that thing?" Foggy asked, looking at the clunky device Matt had in front of him. He'd seen it on his roommate's desk before but hadn't thought to ask.

"This?" Matt put his hand on his note taker.

"Yeah."

"It's for taking notes. You type things in Braille and then it reads it back to you, or you could hook it up to a printer."

"Oh, cool."

"Like this." Matt tried to think of something that might sound funny when read back by a speech synthesizer, and typed a few words. At the push of a button, the words came out as "Foggy, this is God speaking."

"Wow, that's like having your own personal Stephen Hawking or something." It made HAL from _2001: A Space Odyssey_ sound downright pleasant by comparison, but Foggy had to admit it was pretty neat gadget.

"Right," Matt said laughing, "unfortunately it doesn't come with his brain installed."

"What does something like that cost?"

"Around one grand, I think." Matt didn't really want to mention that he hadn't paid for it himself.

"Hey, I think this is it." Foggy glanced at the clock on the wall, and noticed everyone beginning to settle down.

"Ladies and gentlemen," their professor started, "if you'd please take your seats, I think we're about ready to begin. Welcome to Columbia University and what I assume is your first class at this fineestablishment. Now, my dad's name is Mr. Coates, but you're free to call me Ben. Okay? All of my contact information is on the hand-out that you can pick up on your way out. Oh, and if any of you know that you take good notes, and would be willing to part with a copy of said notes, please come see me at the end of the lecture. Any questions so far?

Whether the students were still overwhelmed by the situation or really didn't have any questions, everyone remained quiet. That didn't mean things were as quiet as people thought. Matt could hear the murmurs of around one hundred bodies, the sounds layered on top of each other like a song sung by a strange kind of choir, though it was one he tried not to pay much attention to. The same went for the feet scraping on the floor and the pens scratching paper. Below him, Ben started writing something on the blackboard, the familiar squeak of chalk adding another layer to the jumbled noises of a supposedly silent room.

"Now, for the first week, we'll be taking about various forms of government and the spread of democracy in the twentieth century. So, how about if we get our juices going with a nice warm-up. Who can give me some examples of the various roles of the American president?"

Someone raised his hand, and was called on. "Head of state?"

"Yes, thank you. Anyone else?"

"Commander in chief, " someone added from the back of the room.

"Yes. Commander in chief…" Ben added while writing it down underneath the first item. "Okay, give me a few more."

Almost without thinking Matt threw his hand up. Part of him figured that he might as well try to make an impression that didn't center on being the blind student with more than a passing knowledge of the life of Genghis Khan. Some other part of him was wondering what the heck the first part was doing.

"Yes," Ben started, catching himself when more than a couple of seconds passed, "I'm sorry. Matt, go ahead."

"Head of government." Matt let his hand drop back down.

"That is correct."

"How is that different from head of state?" this time the voice came from someone one row down, and Matt could sense her turn around to look at him.

"Matt, would you care to elaborate?" Ben stopped writing on the board and turned back around to face the class.

"Well, sure… Some countries have one person as the head of state, like the queen of England for instance, and then they'll have a prime minister who would be the head of government. Right?"

"Yeah, that's it exactly. How about…? Are there presidents who are not heads of government?"

"Are you still asking me?" Matt asked the question jokingly, and at least a couple of students seemed to find it humorous.

"Sure, if you're up to it."

"Yes, some countries have both a president and a prime minister."

"Such as?" Ben looked around for a raised hand in the audience, but found none. "Matt, you want to take this one too?"

"Sure. France?"

"Right. Okay, you don't have to answer a single question for the next two weeks," Ben joked. "Anyway, we'll be talking a lot about different parliamentary systems so feel free to read up on that. Now, moving on…"

ooOoo

It seemed like the forty-five minutes went by very quickly, and when it was over, Matt noticed a couple of girls approaching their professor about volunteering as note takers, but he didn't want to stick around for that. He was off to French class in another building while Foggy had a hole in his schedule until they would meet up again for the mandatory science class that was part of the core curriculum. He didn't know where the room was he was going to, only the building, so when Foggy asked this time, Matt was relieved.

"Hey, you want me to walk with you?"

"Would you?"

"Sure, I have nothing else to do. You're actually doing me a favor."

"Thanks, Foggy. I mean it."

"Hey, it's nothing. But you are going to help me study, right?"

Matt laughed "Yeah, if you think that will help."

"I kind of get the feeling it might."


	19. Chapter 19

Author's note: Sorry about the no-show last week, guys. That infamous "real life" kept intruding again. To punish you a little more, here's a transitional chapter of sorts, with a cliff-hanger ending. I will be back on my regular schedule starting now so look for Chapter 20 next week. Also, check out Accidental Hero by girlwithoutfear if you haven't already. It's gold! :)

**Chapter 19**

After Foggy dropped Matt off outside what he hoped was the right classroom two buildings over from the site of their morning lecture, he took a seat at one of the smaller cafeterias nearby. He could have gone for a stroll, but the clouds had started gathering, and staying inside seemed like a better idea. He bought a Coke and a large cranberry muffin and sat down. There was a folded student newspapers on the table and he flipped through a few pages. The stories offered a glimpse into a community he was now a member of, but which still seemed foreign.

He looked around the area and found that he was the only one eating alone. At the next table were a couple of girls laughing at some joke told by one of the two guys they were with. They were just like those people he'd seen featured in the pictures in the paper; they seemed to really belong in this place. Would he find a group of friends like everyone else had seemed to? At least he had Matt, and after just a few days out on his own having someone around that he already considered a good friend was more than he had hoped for.

To pass the time, he read through his hand-out four times, which he decided was an excellent way to look busy, and then looked through a couple of his books. Then he studied his notes. They were unusually neat, the way they always were at the beginning of the school year. It was funny how that worked. Each new year always seemed to offer a fresh start before everything new felt old again and even his notes reverted to their usual state of disarray.

That was another thing Rosalind liked to pick on: his handwriting. It was perfectly legible, but it was nothing like hers - narrow, neat and sharp, with perfect angles. Maybe the proponents of the pseudo-science of graphology were really on to something, because it seemed to suit her perfectly. She was always in complete control, and knew how to maintain an image of perfect placidity even in the middle of the most dire public relations nightmares. That was what her clients paid her for. She made them feel safe. How would he ever be able to emulate that? Matt, on the other hand, was good at the whole confidence thing. Foggy knew that he wasn't really as self-assured as he let on, he'd even said as much himself, but he was good at taking all that insecurity and set it aside for a moment so he could deal with whatever he had to deal with. His life forced him to, no matter how uncomfortable it made him feel, but Foggy could choose to fade into the background and not take any chances. He wasn't so sure he was any better off for it.

Foggy glanced at his watch and noticed that it was time to head back to meet Matt. They hadn't made any formal arrangements, but only because it seemed redundant. He took off down the hall and saw the door to the classroom open and students, virtually all of them girls, hurry out. Matt came out last, a couple of steps behind a girl he was talking to. They were laughing at something, and Foggy wasn't sure whether to approach until he heard the girl ask if he needed help to get anywhere and Matt respond that he was waiting for a friend.

"Hey, Matt!" Foggy smiled at Matt's new friend who was pretty in a way that was charming rather than intimidating. She had dark brown eyes and a very friendly smile.

"Hey, Foggy. This is Alex; she's going to help me out with notes for this class. Alex, this is my roommate." Matt waited for the two to exchange brief greetings before going on, "Foggy, you're not going to believe what just happened."

"What?" Foggy couldn't decide whether the look on Matt's face meant he was mortified or amused, but there were traces of both.

"Wait just a minute."

Foggy saw a small oddly dressed woman with gray hair pulled into a bun dart past them. She looked at them briefly, then rolled her eyes and whispered a _'mon dieu_' under her breath.

"Okay, is she gone?" Matt asked, though he knew she was out of earshot by now.

"Yeah, go ahead and tell him." Alex said. She looked like she was about to burst out laughing, which only added to Foggy's curiosity.

"I don't even know where to begin. You know, I went up to her to introduce myself and everything, and I _swear_ I just about gave her a stroke."

"What? Why?"

"First of all, she seemed to be completely confused as to what I was even doing there, like she couldn't get her head around how I could be taking this class. I wasn't sure what to think since I knew someone must have told her about me. Anyway, I gave her just the basic instructions about reading things out loud and that I needed someone to take notes, but I could tell she wasn't really listening to any of it. I could literally hear the gears turning in that little head of hers. At some point, she must have finally accepted that people like me obviously go to college although apparently that didn't dispel the idea that I must be _completely_ helpless, because then she actually tried to drag me to my seat."

"No way." Foggy wondered just how successful someone who looked to be about the size of the Sophia Petrelli character from _Golden Girls_ would be in making a guy like Matt do anything he didn't want to.

"I'm not kidding." Matt was still baffled by the surreal experience he'd just had, and a little concerned at the same time. If this woman couldn't get past whatever her deal was, the two of them were going to have a real problem.

"Yeah, she was acting really weird, I felt so bad for him," Alex added, looking at Foggy.

"So, I let her. I was afraid I'd tip her over if I decided to really dig my heels in so I let her lead me like a puppy to a chair in the back row. The whole time she's muttering something in French under her breath. I didn't catch any of it really, except for an occasional _mon dieu_, which just seemed odd to me. Anyway, she sat me next to Alex here who basically confirmed that she was the one who was nuts, and not me. I mean, you never know, right?"

"But she just seemed generally ditzy to me too; completely unorganized and totally neurotic. I hope it gets better or I'm going to try to transfer to a different class," Alex added.

"And, get this; I had my hand up probably ten times, and she didn't call on me once," Matt said facing Foggy.

"I have to go, guys. Matt, was there someone you wanted me to call?" Alex picked her things up to start moving.

"Yeah," Matt got his backpack and searched through his outer pocket for Gina's card, "she's my coordinator, just copy the number and talk to her about what to do with the notes. Technically we're not supposed to know about each other, but oh well." Matt heard Alex's pen scrape against her notebook, and she handed the card back to him. "Thanks, by the way. I really appreciate it."

"Hey, don't worry about it, it's no biggie. Okay, gotta run, see you guys around." She nodded briefly in Foggy's direction before darting off.

"She totally likes you," Foggy said after she slipped out through the front door.

"Oh, come on. She took pity on me."

"What?"

"No, I don't mean it like that. I mean it in a good way. She said 'hi', and then we got to talking for a couple of minutes before class about Madame whatever her name is. I mentioned that I was pretty sure she hadn't registered that she would need to ask someone to share their notes. Alex volunteered, we came to an agreement and that was that."

"If you say so. She seemed nice anyway."

"Exactly. And nice means nice, nothing more. Being nice doesn't mean you're hitting on someone. I was just glad to find at least one person in that classroom who wasn't completely insane."

"It was that bad, huh?"

"Honestly? It was humiliating. Except I've decided that it was humiliating to the point of being funny which is a nice survival mechanism when you think about it. What are you supposed to do when people are being irrational?"

"You're asking me?" Foggy wondered what he could possibly know about life that Matt didn't.

"Yeah."

"I don't know. Do you think she might snap out of it?"

"Yeah. I hope so anyway."

"We should get going; our next class is in ten minutes."

ooOoo

The hours that followed were something of a mixed bag. There were many moments that seemed to promise that something greater and more rewarding was waiting just around the corner, and deep down Matt knew that most of the things that seemed like big things now would probably melt away to nothing over the next couple of weeks. Still, he felt uncomfortable in his own skin in a way that he hadn't in a long time.

His science teacher hadn't done much to hide the fact that he considered his presence and the requirements that came with it to be something of a nuisance. He was civil about it, but the question of how any of this was his problem seemed to be hanging in the air. Matt couldn't help feeling a tiny amount of resentment that he had been forced into the position of doing his own dirty work. High school had been different; strings had been pulled behind the scenes and most things ran smoothly. And, for the most part, his teachers had been one hundred percent supportive. He found himself missing his old chemistry teacher who had actually found building models of complex molecules for him to feel to be a fun challenge rather than an extra chore.

Most of all, Matt missed Hell's Kitchen at night. It was his own personal playground where none of these things even mattered. It seemed so far away now. In his mind, he could still feel the moist skin of early dawn on his face, the sensation deep in his body that came with each controlled fall and the impact of asphalt against his perfectly planted feet when his thrill ride came to an end. There was something almost primitive about it. Sometimes, he'd fantasize about being a hunter in a deep jungle somewhere, able to hear every single movement and smell every last plant and animal. In the darkness, it was easy enough to pretend until reality insisted on intruding.

There were some undeniably perks that came with living in civilized society, such as central heating, indoor plumbing and countless other comforts; but civilized society also put up some of the biggest obstacles. Away from it, he could have been a god among men. Surrounded by it, he was disabled. Four years earlier, he'd been sent on a journey into realms of physical perception that normal humans would never know. He'd also been handed a membership card to the minority group no one ever chose to join. At first, both parts of the equation had felt dehumanizing. The average person found their way around a supermarket by reading signs; they didn't sniff their way around like a dog. The most important human sense had been taken from him, and he'd been reduced to relying on the very same senses that human evolution had relegated to a lower status.

Meanwhile, modern technology kept introducing new innovations aimed at making lives easier and more rewarding. Nearly all of them seemed to rely on the vision he didn't have and the kinds of abilities that his other heightened senses couldn't duplicate. In the late afternoon, trying to get an early start on an English assignment, Matt found himself face to face with one of modern society's favorite new toys: the personal computer.

"Matt, are you okay?" Foggy had just started working on his essay, but Matt looked stumped and there was a concerned frown on his face.

"No, I'm not. Damnit, this isn't working right." Matt knew there was nothing wrong with the computer or the software, but he'd done all his work in high school on a different type of computer, and he'd never even learned to do anything fancy with it.

"Is there something wrong with it?" Foggy glanced at the screen to see if there was any indication of what might be the problem.

"No, I think I just need a manual." Matt sighed and stuck his hand in the air, waiting for the resident nerd in charge of the computer lab to come by.

"Oh."

"I'm used to a different kind of set-up, that's all," Matt said, though he sounded a little more cranky than he would have wanted to.

He noticed someone coming toward them, surrounded by an aura of deep-fried food and cheap store brand deodorant. His shirt had an ever so slight moldy scent to it and as he spoke, his breath revealed a heavy consumption of Mountain Dew and chocolate-covered raisins. This was the kind of information Matt was privy to, but none of it was the least bit relevant to what he was trying to do.

"Can I help you?" His voice was hesitant, but pleasant.

"I don't know. Is there, say, a manual or something for the screen reader software on this thing?"

"Wow. Dude, I have no idea."

"Right. Okay. You know anyone who might?" The back-up plan was to call Gina to get everything sorted out, but with any luck Matt hoped he wouldn't have to go there.

"Well, now that you mention it, there's this guy who's, like, friends of a friend of mine."

"Yeah?"

"He's a computer science major, I think. He's also... You know."

"Blind?"

"Yeah, exactly. I guess he would know what to do. He should, right?"

"Right." Matt wasn't sure he wanted to turn this into a whole project, but it didn't seem like he had much choice.

"How about if I go make a quick phone call? What was your name?"

"Oh, sorry. It's Matt. Matt Murdock."

"I'm Ross. I'll just be a minute, okay?"

Matt followed his sounds as he walked away which indicated a trip to the phone outside. He didn't want to eavesdrop and pulled his focus back to the things in his immediate vicinity. In front of him, he could feel the mass of the large piece of electronic hardware, hear the processor do its thing and smell the minute amounts of ozone coming from the printer a few feet away. With focus, his radar would even allow him to sense the shape of the keys on the keyboard. They didn't appear as individual keys, but more like a single bumpy surface. He was pretty good at touch typing so it didn't matter much that he couldn't see the letters, but the screen itself remained quiet. It communicated nothing at all.

Within a couple of minutes, Ross came back in the room. "So, I talked to this guy I know, and he gave me the number for this other guy whose name is Adam something. He was pretty sure that he wouldn't mind helping you out, so go ahead and call him if you want."

"Thanks."

"Sure. No problem. Uh, here's the number." Ross placed it in Matt's outstretched hand.

"I appreciate it."

"No sweat." Ross walked away and Matt stood up to gather his belongings. There was no point in hanging around.

"You're leaving?" Foggy was just getting started and wondered if this meant he had to leave too.

"Yeah, I'll go back to our place and read or something."

"Is it okay if I stay? I mean, will you be okay?"

"Of course. I don't need anyone to take care of me, including you. I told you."

"I know. Sorry."

"It's okay. I just... It's been a long day. I'll see you back there, okay?"

"Sure." Foggy watched Matt maneuver quite well through the crowded room, where people on each side were trying to make themselves as small as possible to let him pass, and finally slip out the door.

When Matt got back outside, he felt a wave of relief that surprised him. He felt like he could breathe again for the first time in hours. The wind against his face was refreshing and smelled really good. Soon, fall would come and everything would start to smell damp and pungent, like decomposing leaves. People thought he couldn't tell when the leaves on the trees changed colors, but that wasn't true. Fall had a scent, just like every other season, and he knew its subtle progression just as well as anyone else.

The things he knew that no one else did, and the things he could do that people didn't know about could fill a whole book. As he walked back to his building he fantasized about what it would be like to tell everyone about his abilities. If he didn't use the cane people would stop looking and no one would ask him whether he needed help with all the silly things he knew even an ordinary blind person could do in his sleep. But life wasn't that simple. He knew that chances were pretty good he'd be treated as even more of a freak if he came out of the proverbial closet. What if people knew that he could tell when they were lying? What if they knew that he could smell last night's dinner on them? What if they knew that he knew of dozens of ways to kill someone? Not that he ever would.

The more he thought about all of it – his strange life and the people in it – the closer he came to finding that one factor which was at the source of all the little things that had seemed to bother him for the last couple of days. It was the feeling of losing control, the feeling of being at the mercy of other people and things outside of himself. It had been the worst part of the first few days, weeks and months after the accident. In an instant, he had gone from being just an average kid to someone who needed help just making sense of the world. He'd always prided himself on his independence, and his years of being bullied had fostered a streak of self-sufficiency. Only by telling himself that he didn't need other people or their approval was it possible for him to survive and grow stronger. Suddenly having to rely on others for things that most people didn't was a blow to his confidence and basic sense of self.

When he met Stick, he had been restored, his world pieced back together. He'd regained control of his body and his surroundings. Now he was wondering how much of that was just familiarity, because being out of his element had thrown him for a loop he hadn't anticipated. His abilities were still there, as reliable as always, but he found himself having to work a little harder for things. He had to keep his focus tighter in this new environment and he needed to learn to surrender some of that hard-earned control and let people help him out until he could find his balance again. It was like being taken down a notch and taking a step back to regroup when all he wanted was to leap forward.

As he crossed the street that separated the campus from the surrounding residential area, he felt the note in his pocket and tried to decipher the numbers. He could, though reading hand-writing was difficult sometimes. Even though it was smaller, print was usually easier as long as the layer of ink was high enough. Handwriting varied from one person to the next and indentations were more difficult to feel than the patterns of a raised surface. He had a phone call he needed to make when he got back, even though it felt odd to ask for anything from someone he'd never met and presumably had nothing in common with except for a pair of eyes that didn't work. But he knew he had no other choice but do deal with it. With a little luck, Adam might turn out to be a nice guy. At the very least, he sounded like he knew his way around computers.

Matt was suddenly brought back to the here and now when he came out of the elevator and entered the hallway on his floor. There were two people outside, knocking on his door. When there was no response, they gave it a couple more tries and then turned to walk away just as Matt approached.

"Hello," Matt said and heard a stunned gasp from the person on the right, a woman. "Are you looking for Foggy?"

"Franklin, yes," the man next to her replied. "Do you know him?"

"Well, I hope to. I'm Matt, his roommate."

"Oh, _you're_ Matthew?" the man asked, surprised. "I'm Edward Nelson, this is my wife Anna. We're Franklin's parents."


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

"Oh, you're Foggy's _parents_?" Matt didn't know what to do or say next. He figured Foggy would be back in a little while, and he didn't want to turn them away exactly, but he wished their first meeting had come about under less awkward circumstances. For one, it would have been nice if Foggy had actually been there.

"Yes," Anna Nelson said with some hesitation, "I came into town to meet Edward and we thought we'd surprise him. It wasn't the best idea perhaps."

"Well, he's still on campus, I just came from there. He'll probably be back in forty minutes or so." Matt made a split-second decision and added, "You want to come in and wait for him? We've got some coffee if you want."

"Oh, we wouldn't want to bother you boys," Edward said and looked at his wife in a vain attempt to try to read her mind.

"It's fine. Really," Matt said as he got his key out and felt for the opening in the lock. He was wondering what on Earth he was going to do to entertain Foggy's parents until he came back, but would have felt awful if he didn't invite them in.

"Maybe just for a few minutes," Anna finally relented.

Matt got the door open and stepped to the side to let the others enter. He leaned his cane against the wall in the corner of the room, just a few feet to the right of the door and let the backpack slide to the floor with a gentle thud. Now what? Right. Coffee. Everyone liked coffee. "Uh, go ahead and sit down if you want."

"This is a nice place you've got," Foggy's father said, though he'd seen it when he and his wife dropped their son off.

"Yeah, it's not too shabby, I guess." Matt started fiddling with the coffee maker. The Nelsons still hadn't sat down, which stressed him out a little. He could feel and hear them moving around, presumably looking at everything.

"I can never get Foggy to pick anything off the floor. What did you do with him?" Anna said jokingly.

Matt smiled at the thought of what Foggy would have said if he had been there. Parents seemed to think nothing of talking openly about their children's less than admirable qualities. "I guess I gave him a reason."

As if she was suddenly reminded of how she'd neglected her duties, Anna walked over to the kitchen area. "Please, allow me." Being waited on by a blind teenage boy didn't sit well with how she normally operated.

"No, I've got it." Matt tried to go for 'nice but firm' and sensed Foggy's mother back away. "You're the guests here." He heard one of the chairs scrape against the floor behind him and felt the gentle tug of Edward Nelson sitting down at the table. His wife reluctantly followed suit. Once he heard the coffee maker start up, Matt reached out for the thin hard mass in front of him that indicated the back of a chair and pulled it out to sit down. Now what was he going to talk about?

"Foggy didn't mention your..." Edward cleared his throat, "handicap." He received a cold look from his wife and felt her kick his shin. Anna didn't believe in being blunt.

"Oh." Matt had tried not to listen to any of Foggy's phone calls, which was easy enough with so many other sounds to tune in to, but it was hard not to overhear his name being mentioned and he knew that Foggy had talked about him. He also knew that Foggy hadn't told his parents that he was blind, which was something he appreciated, even though it added to the awkwardness of the situation he was now in. "Well, I hope it's not the most interesting thing about me."

"I think it's admirable that you are getting an education," Anna said in a misguided attempt to smooth things over.

"I don't know... I'm just doing what I want to do. It sure beats the alternative." Matt opened his watch underneath the table so he could feel the time on it. Blindness sure could be a bitch sometimes, but being able to tell the time without letting anyone know was an unexpected perk. He wondered how much longer it would be before Foggy showed up, or even how long they'd have to wait for the coffee to be ready to pour so he could get back up and move around.

"I'm sure Foggy could learn a lot from you," Anna said, this time getting a stern look from her husband.

"So, Foggy tells us you're from around here." Edward added.

"If by 'around here' you mean Manhattan. I'm from Hell's Kitchen." Matt considered going with Clinton instead, but he decided against the sugarcoating, and he always liked the name of his old neighborhood anyway. At the very least, it made the place sound interesting. "You live on Long Island?"

"Yes, not too far away, I suppose." Edwards said.

"We like it," Anna added. "Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

Matt was sure they were stalling just as much as he was, desperate for something to serve as a real icebreaker. "No, I'm an only child. I was raised by my dad, my mom died when I was little."

"Oh my!" Foggy's mother couldn't believe Matt's poor luck.

"Don't worry, he did a pretty good job." Matt smiled to put all of them at ease. The coffee was almost ready and he got up to get some cups.

"Can I help?" Anna asked now that she saw Matt getting back up.

"Well, if you want milk, there's some in the refrigerator." Matt nodded in its general direction. "Otherwise, I've got it."

"You had your first day today, didn't you?" Edward started, "do the two of you take any of the same classes?"

"Yeah, most of them actually." Matt put all the things on the table, including the box with Aunt Grace's cookies. "It's good. We can help each other out."

"So you have some of the same interests then?" Anna had returned to the table. She was relieved that the conversation was finally going somewhere.

"Yeah, we get along great. And we both want to be lawyers." Matt remembered something about how Foggy's mom wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea, but he nodded enthusiastically anyway.

"It's an honorable profession." Edwards Nelson was showing off his slightly more diplomatic side. "What kind of law do you want to practice, Matt?"

"I can't say I've decided yet, but I'm leaning toward criminal law." Matt joined them at the table again and let his guests pour their own coffee. He didn't want to give the Nelsons a heart attack by doing it for them.

"So you want to get the bad guys off the hook, huh?" Edward joked.

"Not really. I mean, everyone's entitled to a defense, right? And it's not just the guilty who get accused of a crime. Then you have the ones who really deserve a second chance. I'm all for giving people second chances. Well, some people."

"It sure sounds like you put some thought into it." Anna nodded and gave her husband an approving look. Matt might be a good influence on Foggy. Not that he had ever strayed particularly far from the straight and narrow.

"Yeah, I guess I have." Suddenly, Matt heard familiar footsteps in the hallway. Foggy was back. Just a few more seconds now. _Thank God._

Foggy started speaking even before he had fully opened the door. "Hey, Matt. I'll have to finish that stuff tomorrow... I got bored." It took a few seconds for the scene in front of him to make sense. Apparently his parents had dropped by and were now being entertained by his roommate. He hoped they hadn't had time to do too much damage to his reputation. "Mom? Dad? What are you doing here?"

"Oh, there you are!" Anna lit up at the sight of her step-son. She had been in his life since he was three and she loved him as if he were her own child.

"We were just discussing the legal system with Matt here." Edward added.

"Oh. Well, that's good... So, what were you doing here exactly?" Foggy hoped that didn't sound too harsh. They had loved, clothed and fed him his whole life and were now paying for his education - well, along with Rosalind - and he didn't want to come across as a spoiled brat.

"I was in town and we wanted to surprise you!" Anna said. By the look on his face, Foggy was plenty surprised. 

"Yeah, you really got me there." Foggy still didn't really know what to make of the situation and hoped that his parents hadn't told Matt all of his more embarrassing childhood stories. He glanced over at Matt and felt a mild frustration at not being able to read him properly. They couldn't give each other knowing looks because Matt couldn't see them and he wasn't very good at projecting them either with the shades covering a large part of his face. He did look mildly amused, however.

"Don't worry, Foggy. We only managed to cover the first five years of your life." Matt joked, guessing what Foggy was probably thinking.

"That's great!" Foggy joked back and let his guard down a little. From the looks of things, Matt had done a decent job of acting host and it was good seeing his folks again, even though he hadn't expected them.

"How about if we take the two of you out to dinner?" Edward asked and Anna nodded her approval.

"Yeah..." Foggy started, not sure of whether it was a good idea. Once again, he missed not being able to exchange non-verbal cues with Matt.

"We would love to take you. Both of you," Anna insisted.

"Okay, sure," Foggy said, noticing how Matt tensed up slightly.

"You guys go ahead and have a family dinner. It's okay." Matt didn't want to be in the way, even though he could sense their sincerity. There was nothing in their voices to indicate that they would prefer for him to gracefully bow out.

"Seriously, Matt. You've gotta come," Foggy pleaded. "Or I'm not going either."

"Well, if you're sure it's alright." There were things he needed to attend to, and he really should get a head start on his reading, but there was certainly something to be said for a distraction, especially with the state his head had been in lately. 

"It would be our pleasure," Edward said.

"Okay. Thank you." Matt suddenly realized he wasn't sure he had anything appropriate to wear. He knew the Nelson's had much more money than his father and that they would probably be going some place a little nicer. "Foggy, can I talk to you in there for a minute," he said, nodding in the direction of their bedroom door.

"Oh sure." Foggy waited for Matt to get up and then followed him into the bedroom. "What's up?"

"Is this something we need to change for? If we do, I'm not sure I have anything to wear."

"Wow, you sound like a girl." Foggy had a pretty good idea of where they would be going. His parents had a favorite restaurant in mid-town, a family-owned Italian place that wasn't exactly cheap but far from pretentious. Jeans and a clean shirt were fine.

"I'm serious. I don't have anything really nice." Matt was a little annoyed that Foggy was taking this so lightly.

"Hey, you look fine. I'm not changing into anything else. Besides, it's a Monday night and I'm pretty sure where we're going. And, they're not snobs. Just so you know."

"Okay." That was a relief. He stood out like a sore thumb as it was, and there was no need to make things worse.

"Are you boys ready?" Anna called from the other room.

"See, they're not expecting us to change. You're totally fine." Foggy gave Matt a pat on the shoulder and went back into the larger room.

"Thanks," Matt said to Foggy's back before following him out and cutting straight to where he had left his cane, letting his hand just barely trail the wall he could feel pushing on the air to his left. By the kitchen table, he could hear Foggy squirm a little while his mother poked around with his hair.

"Mom, stop fussing." Foggy pulled away from her and put his hand on his head to weigh down the stray lock of hair that always seemed to have a mind of its own.

"I'm sorry, dear. It's an old habit." Anna looked from her son to her husband who was smiling at the two of them. "Well, I guess we're just about ready then."

ooOoo

Once down on the street, Foggy noticed his dad look at him with a worried expression on his face after giving Matt's cane a once over. They'd already seen him whack one of the smaller trees that lined the sidewalk, and Foggy knew his dad was worried for his brand new car. He mouthed back an 'it's okay' and walked up alongside Matt to get him to take his arm instead. "Hey, Matt. The car's right over here."

"Okay, thanks." Matt followed Foggy just a few more feet down the sidewalk until they stopped at a big mass of car-shaped metal parked underneath a tree.

"You take this side, and I'll get the other door, okay." Foggy noticed his mom give Matt her signature heartbroken wounded puppy look and Foggy frowned back at her to get her to drop it. He hoped to God they could just get through this without his parents doing anything overly embarrassing.

Matt folded his cane and sat down on the leather seat in the back of the car. It smelled new, but there were also traces of human activity: the faint odors of lunch boxes brought to work, an occasional meal from a drive-through and sweaty sneakers. Matt guessed that Candace probably played sports, even though Foggy didn't. "This is a nice car, Mr. Nelson," Matt said, knowing that people liked getting those kinds of compliments.

"This here is a Mercedes 400SE, I just bought it this spring. It runs like a charm." Edward Nelson let out a wistful sigh, as if he had just been reminded of how lucky he was to get his hands on this pinnacle of human engineering. "Those Germans sure know their cars. Oh, and please call me Edward. There's no need to be formal."

"I don't really know too much about a cars. My dad doesn't have one. We borrow our neighbor's car when we need to go some place and that's just a beat-up old Dodge. It's not this comfortable, that's for sure." Matt wasn't generally a big fan of riding in cars since he tended to feel too cut off from the outside. He knew he'd lose his place on his meticulously maintained inner map within a few turns. With everyone buckled in, Edward pulled out from the curb.

"So where's Candace?" Foggy asked, wondering just how crazy his parents were to leave her unattended for the evening. After all, they might return to find their house burned down to the ground.

"She has a sleep-over at Allison's" Anna said, referring to the daughter of a couple living down the street.

"Does this sleep-over include sacrificing kittens?"

"Franklin, I don't appreciate you talking about your sister that way. She may have a wild streak, but she's not as bad as you make her out to be. I'm sure she'll behave herself." Anna's last statement gave away her apprehensions.

"Okay, sorry. But if the house is gone when you get back, don't tell me I didn't tell you so."

"So," Edward said, eager to turn the topic away from the wilder of his two children, "did you learn anything today?"

Foggy smiled. His dad had asked the same question every day after school for as long as he could remember. "Yeah. I learned that Matt seems to already know most of this stuff."

"Naw, that was just beginner's luck," Matt said, a little embarrassed by the comment. "And science is going to be a pain, I just know it."

"Yeah, I don't really like that they're making us take that stuff. It's not like we're ever going to need it."

"Well, you never know when you're going to need to know something, and when you do, you'll be happy you put in the effort," Edward said. "So, you're a good student then, are you Matt?"

"I guess so. I try to be." Matt knew that he was being overly modest, but he'd never been one to boast about his achievements. "My dad was pretty strict about school work, and I'm here on a scholarship so I guess it paid off."

"Well, what do you know." Edward nodded slowly, as if he was pondering this piece of information. "Did Foggy tell you I went to school here too?"

"Yes, sir. He did."

"I graduated in 1969. Ah, we had some good times back then. Don't forget to enjoy yourselves too, you hear?"

"We won't." Foggy smiled at that comment. It was a bit unexpected coming from his dad.

"Can you believe our boy is all grown up?" Anna turned around to look at him, and Foggy got the sneaking suspicion that she was going to reach out to pinch his cheek.

"Mom, please…" Foggy gave her a pleading look and glanced over at Matt who looked rather amused.

"Okay, everyone. We're just about there. Let me know if you see an empty parking spot." Edward said, sitting up a little straighter behind the wheel.

ooOoo

Matt knew they were somewhere in Midtown, but that was about all he knew. He made a conscious decision not to let that bother him. After all, it wasn't as if he didn't have a way to get back.

The restaurant was quite a bit nicer than any place he'd ever been before. Matt could only try to guess what the décor might look like, but there were other things that set it apart from the diners and chain restaurants he and his dad frequented. The atmosphere was quieter, the conversations spoken in hushed voices, and there was more wine than beer being consumed. Then there was the food, of course. The whole place smelled so good, Matt immediately thanked himself for signing up for this unexpected trip.

A waiter appeared to show them to their seats, a round table in the back, and brought over four menus, even though Matt couldn't read his. Although, this time, he could have if he'd tried. Unlike the joints he was used to, these weren't the plastic menus that one would wipe off with a wet cloth, but actual print menus with just a leather cover.

Foggy leaned over in Matt's direction. "You want me to read everything or is there some other way of doing this?"

"If it's long, just give me the headings and I'll decide if it sounds interesting." Matt was hoping something would match a particularly divine smell he was picking up on.

"Well, how about if we get som garlic bread to start with, huh?" Edward flagged down a waiter while Foggy threw himself into reading through the whole menu. It wasn't particularly long. Matt stopped him when he got to the crimini mushroom risotto.

"That's what I'm having." Matt knew that had to be what he was smelling.

"You don't want me to read the rest?" Matt's decisiveness struck Foggy as a little odd.

"No, that's okay."

"Alright." Foggy looked up and noticed his mother studying the two of them, smiling at Foggy like he'd done her proud by being such a good sport about helping out the poor little blind friend. He just hoped she wouldn't say anything to that effect. "Well, I always order the same thing."

The waiter came back around and Edward placed their orders, including a half bottle of wine for him and his wife to share.

"You know, Matt, when Foggy was maybe four or five, we took him here one time. We got him the spaghetti Bolognese and he accidentally pushed down on the edge of the plate," Anna said, unable to contain a hearty laugh before going on, "and the whole thing went flying. I think most of it ended up in his hair, but there was some on the wall too."

"Yeah, that must have been something." Foggy said through gritted teeth, though he wasn't really upset.

"Hey, I'll have my dad come over and tell you embarrassing stuff about me." Matt said to Foggy. "That way we're even."

"Okay, but I should tell you that your dad scares me a little."

"Yeah, he sort of has that effect on people. He's really quite charming once you get to know him." Matt laughed at his own choice of words. "Okay, maybe not _charming_, but you know what I mean."

"Besides, I doubt there's anything to tell. I'm a first-class goof, so I'm pretty sure I've got you beat."

"Okay, how about this one? Apparently, I got so spooked the first time I saw Big Bird on TV that I wouldn't go near it for a week. At least according to my dad."

"_Big Bird?_" Foggy looked at Matt with equal parts amusement and surprise.

"I was three, okay? I don't even remember it. And, yes, I got over it eventually." Matt smiled, and tacked on a little joke, "And I know what you're thinking. I got over it _before_ going blind, okay?"

"I was just about to ask that," Foggy replied, mildly aware of the disapproving look from his parents who obviously didn't find blindness to be a joking matter. But Matt had said it was okay to joke about, and what Matt thought carried considerably more weight.

"I promise you, I have nothing but great memories of Big Bird."

"Well that's good to know." Foggy thought about it for a second, then added another story of his own. "One time when I was eight, I went to school wearing my sisters hat that said Candace on it. We both had identical hats with names, like the ones you order from a catalogue, and I took the wrong one."

"And how long did it take you to figure this out, Foggy?" Matt asked.

"You know," Foggy cracked himself up thinking about it, "for the longest time, I was wondering why everyone was looking at me. But I had it figured out by the afternoon."

"Wow, that fast, huh?" Matt gave Foggy one of his more sarcastic smiles and leaned back against his chair when he noticed someone bringing drinks and garlic bread their way.

"Hey, you want some bread, Matt?" Foggy reached for the garlic bread, and was ready to put a slice on Matt's plate too if he accepted.

"Sure, thanks. But, did your parents ever call the police on you?"

"Eh, no. Wow, what did you do?" Foggy wondered briefly if Matt had any kind of sordid past he hadn't told him about.

"I didn't _do_ anything. Let's just say that my dad sort of over-reacted. I was going to go visit someone I knew from school who'd moved out to Brooklyn. Then, on the way back, I sort of got on the wrong train. Or, it wasn't really the wrong train, it was just the express train so it didn't stop at my station. They either didn't announce it, or I just missed it for some reason. Anyway, I figured it out soon enough when they went right past where I was getting off. So, I decided to get off at the next stop and then just ride the train back, which was really no biggie. Or, so I thought. It turned out that they had massive delays on the trains in the other direction. I don't know why, maybe someone jumped or something. Whatever the case was, I got delayed about one hour, and my dad was really freaking out. He'd called this friend of mine who told him that I'd left, and I'm sure he thought I was either lost or dead. So when I finally got to my station, this police officer came up to me and told me that my dad was looking for me. That's a _little_ excessive if you ask me."

"I guess." Foggy was surprised that Matt's father was even the worrying type. He sure didn't seem like it.

"As a parent, I can certainly understand your father's concern." Anna said. "It's difficult not to worry sometimes."

"Yeah, I know. But, at the time, I was really angry about it. I felt like he didn't trust me enough. Sure, I was still new to being blind and all that, but I'd gone places by myself lots of times. If I'd been two hours late, maybe that would have been reason enough to worry. Either way, I thought it was kind of embarrassing." Matt and Jack had had a really big fight that evening, which Matt felt no need to revisit. It had been a good fight in a way, since it really cleared the air, but part of why he'd been so angry was that the experience of being lost, albeit briefly, had been more jarring than he'd cared to admit.

"But, speaking of the police, shouldn't we call to see what Candace is up to?" Foggy joked and looked at his parents.

"Your mother is right, Franklin. There's no need to talk about your sister that way. She just has a lot of energy, that's all." Edward said.

"Alright, fine. Whatever you say." Though he did love the little brat very much, Foggy still wasn't so sure she wasn't spawned by some demon. At least if those loud shrills she could muster when she didn't get her way were anything to go by.

Before long, their food arrived, and Matt had the best meal of his life. Foggy traded quips with his parents for much of the evening, and Matt learned all there was to know about being an investment banker. Foggy's parents were good people, which shouldn't have been all that surprising since – after all – Foggy was good people too.

ooOoo

They got back to the apartment around nine, and Matt was stuffed. The Nelsons had insisted they all have desserts, and Matt had tried the tiramisu.

Foggy threw himself on the couch in front of the TV and turned it on while Matt was getting ready to call Adam, hoping that he'd be able to help him out. Before he got the chance to, the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hey, I was looking for a Matt Murdock." The voice on the other line belonged to a young woman.

"I'm Matt."

"Oh, good. I'm calling about the ad you put up."

"Great. That's… perfect."

"So, how does this work, exactly? Do I come in for an interview?"

"I wouldn't call it that exactly. But, how about if you come over tomorrow and we'll talk about it?"

"Sure, that works for me. What time? Five-ish?"

"Yeah, I should be home by then. What was your name?"

"Oh, god. Sorry. I'm Angie."

"Well, I guess I'll see you then, Angie."

"Okay, bye."

"Bye." Matt hung up the phone and turned to Foggy. "Okay, I think I just found a reader."

"She's already hired?"

"Unless it turns out she can't read or something, yeah. Besides, she might not want the job. But she had a _really_ great voice."

"Well, there you go. She sounds perfect, can I meet her?" Matt had sat down in the arm chair on the other side of the coffee table, and Foggy jokingly took one of the smaller sofa cushions and threw it in his roommate's direction.

"Did you just _throw_ this at me?" Matt said, his voice tinged with mock outrage.

"Yeah, I'm just channeling some Candace Nelson over here."

"Wow, I should call your parents right now and tell them that you're harassing your poor, unsuspecting blind roommate."

"Please don't, my mom would kill me." Foggy laughed.

"I doubt it. You know, your parents aren't too bad."

"Yeah, as far as parents go, they're okay."


	21. Chapter 21

Author's notes: Yeah, I missed a week again. I actually signed up for NaNoWriMo this year though the odds that I'll actually finish are slim to none. The good news, however, is that I finally started that in-continuity Daredevil novel I've been thinking of writing (with actual action, a mystery and, oh yeah, a plot!). I'm also writing some DD for the Theatrical Muse community on LJ, as of two weeks ago, so check out my Matt Murdock character at mmmurdock(dot)livejournal(dot)com!

**Chapter 21**

Matt had a lunch date of sorts with Adam, the blind whiz kid who obviously liked computers enough to actually major in computer science. Matt couldn't really think of anything that lay further from his own interests, but the guy had sounded normal enough on the phone. Maybe he should try to put aside his pre-conceived notions about those who were more tech savvy than he was. Not that he wasn't reasonably good with his hands, or at figuring out how things worked. It was just that, as far as computers went, it was like deliberately looking for something that was hard to do when there were so many other things that were easy.

Normally, Matt would have felt a little worried about meeting someone he'd never met before in a public place. If he didn't have a scent or a specific sound to go on, it was difficult to pick someone out in a crowd. After all, he didn't respond well to descriptions of the "I'm the blond guy in the red shirt" variety. Picking out another white cane user would be a breeze by comparison since it was a sound he knew all too well. Oddly enough, he'd never particularly minded it. In fact, most rhythmical and predictable sounds were quite soothing. And, if it weren't for the obvious gawk factor, he didn't really mind the cane itself either. Though he very rarely actually needed it for mobility purposes, it was a little bit like having a very long extra finger that could be used to touch things, and even get information that was hard to come by otherwise, such as changes in texture.

When Adam came around the corner, the sound of his cane wasn't what gave him away. He was talking to someone else, and Matt recognized his voice from the previous evening. The person Adam was with must have spotted him, because the two of them quickly headed over to where he was standing.

"Hey, I guess you're Matt." Adam quickly found Matt's hand and shook it.

"Yeah, that's me." Matt said it almost apologetically. He did feel awkward pulling this guy out of whatever his regular routine was so he could pick his brain for a half hour.

"I'm Adam, obviously. And, this is Brian. He's the singer in our band."

"S'up?" Brian said, going for cool and jaded.

"You have a _band_?" Matt tried not to sound too surprised, but that revelation was certainly not what he had expected.

"Yeah, I play the bass guitar. It's just us and a couple of other guys. We've played at some clubs and stuff."

"What kind of music do you play?" If Matt had been able to see, maybe their wardrobe would have given them away, but nothing else did.

"Well, it's sort of like a cross between Alice in Chains and Pearl Jam," Adam said matter-of-factly.

"Oh, but it's totally not, like, derivative or anything. We have this totally unique sound. You should come check us out," Brian added, obviously not comfortable with Adam's comparison.

"Well, yeah, we're definitely fresh. Though Brian's got this freaky Eddie Vedder voice that's just awesome."

"Who?" The name was familiar, but Matt couldn't place it.

"Uh, the lead singer from _Pearl Jam_…?" Adam said, sounding almost as if Matt had just revealed that he'd never heard of George Washington.

"Oh, right…"

"Hey, sorry about if that came out the wrong way, we're just _really_ into the alternative scene. I forget that not everyone is, you know."

"No, that's… okay. But sure, I'd like to hear you play some time." Matt wondered if listening from outside whatever club they were playing at would be good enough. Being under twenty-one wasn't the only reason he didn't go to those places.

"Well, I gotta run. Later, Ads" Brian rushed off and left the two of them standing outside the computer lab.

"So, you want to go inside?" Adam asked.

"Yeah. Thanks for doing this by the way. I hate having to ask, but I'm in kind of in a tight spot here." Matt followed Adam through the door to the back of the room where the lone accessible computer was set up.

"Really, it's not a problem. Besides, you're probably better off asking me than some sightie who doesn't have a clue, right? Oh, and I say that respectfully," Adam said jokingly. "No, 'effing' clue."

Matt could sense Adam's exact location when he went to sit down, and pulled out the chair next to his. "Yeah, I guess so." He could hear the power button on the computer being pushed, and Adam bent down to get something out of his bag.

"So, here's the manual. That's the Braille version. I'm sure there's an audio version out there somewhere, but I hope this is okay."

"Thanks, this is great." Matt was relieved to get his hands on some solid information.

"Borrow it for as long as you need to, and I'll just show you the basics okay?" Adam was still waiting for the computer to start up. "So, I take it you've met Gina?"

"Yeah, she seems okay."

"Oh, yeah, Gina's cool. She handles all the VI students, so I just assumed."

"How many are there?" Matt hadn't really considered whether or not he was the only one until he'd been advised to call Adam.

"Well, we don't have like a secret club or anything so I'm not sure, but I think there's a handful of 'partials' and then there's me. And now you, I guess."

"Yeah, well it's lights out over here, so…" Matt figured that at least this guy would be offended by an innocent joke.

"Me too. Well, technically, I've got light projection on the left side, but that's not much to call home about. But hey, I'm not complaining."

"Were you born blind?" Matt didn't want to pester Adam with the same kinds of question people used to bug him with, but he was curious.

"Sort of. I was a preemie. You?"

"No. I had an accident about four years ago."

"Holy shit!"

"What?" Matt hadn't anticipated Adam's stunned reaction.

"_Man_, that's gotta be rough."

"_You're_ going to feel bad for me too?"

"No… no, I'm just saying. I've never known any different, that's all. I'm just assuming it's gotta suck to have it and lose it, you know?"

"Yeah. It did. I got used to it."

"Okay… Well let's get this going. What kind of computer have you used before?"

"I don't know, some old PC."

"Well, welcome to the 90's. From here on out, it's all about GUIs."

"What's a 'gooey'?"

"That's just how you say it. It stands for graphical user interface. The sighties love that shit. Not that it's new or anything, Apple's been doing it for years. I'm just going to assume you've heard of the Macintosh." From the sound of it, Adam wasn't sure he had.

"Yeah, I have." Matt said, not hiding his annoyance. He did know a thing or two even though it was mostly abstract. Where he grew up, people didn't have computers in the home, and he'd never actually seen a Macintosh back when he still could, though he was vaguely aware that the landscape was changing.

"Anyway, it's not just text anymore, it's a bunch of icons you click on. And drop-down menus and stuff like that."

"I've sort of heard about that."

"Okay, well it's a major pain in the ass if you ask me. The nice thing about it is that you can have more than one application open at the same time, but that's about it. Accessibility on these things is still crap, but apparently this school decided to upgrade everything so all the DOS computers went out the window. I'd even suggest asking them if they have any of those older things around. I have my own stuff, I wouldn't normally bother with this thing right here." Adam patted the side of the monitor.

"So, what do I do?" Matt was wondering how any of this was going to be helpful at all.

"Hey, I didn't say you couldn't get this baby to work. These computers are all running Windows 3.0, and there's software that just came out this spring that _does_ work, especially if you just want to use it write a paper or whatever. Now, the bad news is that if you're just used to DOS, you're going to have to relearn everything."

"Well, that's just great. Damn, I hate computers."

"Don't say that. They can sense your fear," Adam joked. "But yeah, the eighties were gold. The way things are going right now, the market is changing really fast and we're getting seriously screwed. But, I'm sure it'll get better eventually."

"When do think that will be?"

"I don't know, but it's all ones and zeros really, when you think about it. I guess that's why I like doing this stuff. It looks chaotic on the surface, but there's this really neat simplicity underneath, you know?"

"Yeah, I guess I can sort of get that."

"So what do you wanna be when you 'grow up'?

"I'm gonna be a lawyer."

"Nice. I already know a future doctor, can I add you to my list of useful people to know?"

"Sure. But law school feels really far away at the moment. I guess I'm going to have to get this thing to spit out my first paper before I start thinking about that."

"You'll be fine. And, you're going to love it here, I promise. You made it this far, right?"

"You mean I survived my first day?"

"No, I meant getting into a high-ranked university. Obviously."

"Right." Matt hesitated for a moment. "Can I ask you something?"

"What is this? A heart to heart?" Adam bit his tongue when Matt went quiet. "Sorry, I'm being a jerk. What's on your mind?"

"Don't you ever get tired of, I don't know, people just being idiots?"

"Yeah, sure. But what are you going to do about it? Some people aren't, some show some kind of potential for actual intelligence, and the rest you ignore and then laugh behind their backs."

"I just don't like dealing with it, you know?"

"What, people? It's pretty unavoidable. And the thing is, people can go through their whole lives and never talk to a blind person. There's a reason most of them are completely clueless. Then there are the people who are beyond stupid, and those are just sort of funny. Well, unless they happen to be in charge of hiring you or something."

"You know, I really try to find the humor in people talking really loud and all that, and it's not that hard. But it's everyone being uncomfortable that's just… I don't know what it is, but it's _not_ funny."

"Okay, I get that this is probably harder for you since you used to be 'normal' and all that, but you need to get over it. Come up with a strategy or something because there's no way around it. And if you're not comfortable or whatever, just fake it 'til you make it."

"Fake it?"

"Unless you're cool with who you are and stuff and then you don't have to. Are you?"

"I don't know." It always came back to the same thing. _Who the_ _hell _are_ you, Matt Murdock?_ Matt still didn't have an answer. The more he kept thinking about it, the more it eluded him. For a second he wondered what Adam, who didn't have any special gifts, would think of him if he knew the truth. Would he consider him a fraud, an insult to all the blind people out there who didn't have any heightened senses and who couldn't feel where things were?

"I thought you said you were."

"Yeah, I know what I said. What I meant was that I'm… I guess the word would be 'independent'."

"Right, so you can get across town, you just don't like how people look at you?"

"Sort of. But it's more like I don't like having to ask for things. I don't like being an inconvenience. I mean, I'm sorry I had to ask you to come down here and do this. I'm sure you have better things to do."

"Yeah, it's an inconvenience. But I really don't mind. Most people don't. Seriously. The only one who has a problem with it is you apparently. I know something you don't, and I'm helping you out because I can. Sighted people can see stuff we can't. Some of that stuff is sort of good to know. It doesn't _mean_ anything. I'm not better than you just because you don't know the difference between an Atari and a typewriter."

"Geez, thanks…"

"The way I see it, sighties are like these really accessible information kiosks. I do whatever I can, and I do it really well. But if I need to ask for something, I'm going to. If you're not going to do that, it's not fucking independence, it's just stupid."

"I see your point."

"Do you? Because if you're only going to do things where you're guaranteed never to have to ask for help with anything, then… Well, it's stupid, okay?"

"I never thought about it that way."

"Now, how about we get to work on your paper? This I'll do for free, but the therapy is five bucks an hour."

"Okay, deal." Matt smiled, oddly relieved that Adam wouldn't put up with his bullshit. Because, he was starting to see it for what it was.

ooOoo

Foggy tried to read the first chapter of the book on American government, but it was really hard to get into it. He kept glancing over at Matt who was busy doing the same thing by very different means. Finally, he had to stop what he was doing and just watch. "That just looks _incredibly_ cool."

"Really?" Matt wasn't really surprised; people always seemed curious about Braille. He stopped what he was doing and reached for another of Aunt Grace's cookies. They were getting a little stale, but still tasted good.

"Can I touch it?" Foggy reached for the page nearest to him when Matt pushed the book over in his direction.

"Sure, knock yourself out."

"I just don't get how you can do it that fast." He felt the line at the top of the page, and it was hard to imagine how the encoded information could be picked up that quickly.

"Well, it was sort of like learning to read the first time. In the beginning, you have to do it one letter at a time, and then you start to recognize the shape of whole words and with enough practice, you just get the hang of it."

"It's still pretty cool."

"I guess it's a pretty decent party trick. The annoying thing is that you can't really do anything else at the same time. Like eating." Matt popped the last piece of cookie in his mouth and wiped his hands on the napkin next to him.

"These cookies are really good. Your aunt made them?"

"She's not really my aunt. She's this old woman who lives in my building, and everyone just calls her Aunt Grace. She sort of looks out for everyone else."

"Neat."

"She used to look after me sometimes when I was a kid and my dad was out late. She's always been like a grandmother. Her husband died in World War II and then she had a son who died as a teenager, back in the fifties. It was leukemia, I think."

"Man, are there no _happy_ stories from Hell's Kitchen?"

"Some." Matt laughed at what Foggy must be thinking. His own life, despite his extraordinary gifts, hadn't exactly been carefree. "I hope I'll have a happy story. It's not over yet, you know."

"No, I guess not." Foggy smiled and looked at Matt who had been in a remarkably good mood all afternoon. Then it hit him again, as it had from time to time since their first encounter; the magnitude of what Matt had gone through and how it had to affect everything he did. Foggy thought of all the things they'd done over the last few days and how Matt had been around for all of it, yet seen none of it. It _had_ to be strange to live like that..

"Besides, Aunt Grace is such a fun person. I really like her a lot. You even forget sometimes that her family died and everything. But she used to have these tin soldiers around that her son made that I loved to look at when I was little. I thought it was cool that kids back then made their own toys and stuff."

"Yeah, my dad used to have those too. He never let me touch them or anything, kept them down in the basement."

"Yeah, Grace wouldn't let me touch hers either until after I had the accident. Then she gave me five of them to keep. I was too old to really be that interested then, but it was a very nice gesture. I get what she was trying to do."

Before Foggy got the chance to respond, there was a knock on the door. Foggy lit up. "You think that's her?"

"It should be. Unless you have someone coming over that I don't know about." Matt smiled and got to his feet to get the door.

"Nope. But, do you think maybe they have an adopt-a-great-looking-exchange-student program? I could go for that, do some community outreach."

"Hmm, what's your pitch going to be?"

"I could teach them English and where to find really good fast food. It's the complete American experience."

"Complete with a massive coronary." Matt opened the door, and the scent of the person on the other side hit him immediately. She smelled of Big Red chewing gum and Dove deodorant. There was also that great natural girl smell that most members of the opposite sex seemed to have. "Hey!"

"Hi! I'm Angie." Her voice was a little more upbeat than it had been on the phone. It was quite deep but still feminine, and Matt liked the sound of it. If was going to have to listen to someone reading things to him several hours a week, he wanted that someone to sound like Angie. "You must be Matt."

"Yeah," Matt smiled and put his hand out. "I bet the shades gave me away, huh?"

"Uh, no. I just…"

"Don't mind me. We were just goofing around." Matt backed out of her way and closed the door. "This is my roommate Foggy."

"Hey," Foggy said from the kitchen table, "you want a cookie?" He smiled at her and held the box out. Angie was quite average looking but had a great and rather infectious smile.

"No, that's okay. I'm trying to cut back." She patted herself on the stomach and laughed. "So," she turned around to look at Matt, "how do we do this?"

"Hm, well this is sort of my first job interview too. Have you ever done this before?"

"Been at a job interview? Yeah." There was a smile in her voice.

"I meant this job specifically."

"No, never." She shook her head and sat down on the chair that Foggy had pulled out for her. "Is that a problem?"

"No, not at all." Matt joined them at the table and folded up the book he had out. "There's not much to it really, I was just curious."

"It was Molly down the hall who tipped me off. I live downstairs but I hadn't seen the note, and we know each other from high school. So, anyway, she knew I was looking for something sort of extracurricular. That's it."

"Okay." Matt nodded, not really knowing where to start. "Well, Molly seems cool."

"Yeah, she comes off as really flaky, but she's smarter than people think."

"I'll leave you guys to it then." Foggy said, feeling a little like the fifth wheel.

"No, you stay. We'll go in the other room." Matt got back up and Angie followed him. He sat down on his own bed, and instructed his guest to take a seat on Foggy's bed before noticing that it seemed like his blankets and bedspread were all in a pile. "Did he make his bed?"

"No," Angie let out a nervous laugh. "I'll just get this chair here."

"Oops, sorry about that." Matt smiled and decided it was time to get down to business. "Well, I basically need someone to read certain things to me. I have my own books for all my classes, but as far as doing research for papers goes, I'm pretty screwed. It's the same thing with certain assignments that might be on something that's not in the book or the hand-outs."

"Okay, I think I get the idea."

"Yeah, like I said, it's pretty straight-forward. If I have to go to the library I'd also need you to help me find the right books." Matt could technically read most things fine by himself if he had to, so the information gathering was really the only thing he needed help with. On the other hand, that might not be such a small task and it was one of the things that made him a little worried about what law school might be like.

"So, I'll just meet you there then?"

"Yeah, I think that would work. I don't really know how many hours a week we're talking about here, since I've never been in college before."

"Well, I'll just try to work around your schedule."

"Another thing is that I'll probably have to hire another person too. Just in case one of you is sick or out of town."

"I understand. I was sort of guessing that might be the case anyway."

"Great. I guess we should get one of Foggy's text books so you can try reading something. I really like your voice, you know."

"_Really_?" Angie sounded nearly ecstatic and Matt almost blushed. He realized how that probably sounded coming from a blind guy. Maybe she thought he was hitting on her when he was really just trying to give her an honest and fairly relevant compliment.

"Yeah… Well, it's important if I'm going to listen to you for hours. Would you just grab something that looks like a text book off his shelf?"

"Okay, how about _The Second Sex_ by Simone de Beauvoir?" Angie tried to sound perfectly serious, but Matt could tell she was kidding.

"Yeah, right." He laughed. "What else is up there?"

Angie laughed too. "Hey, I'm serious."

"Really?"

"No. Sorry. I'll just get this one… History of Literature. Does that sound dull enough?"

"Yeah, that sounds perfect."

"Okay," Angie opened up the book, and the first question immediately arose, "What do I do with pictures?"

"Hmm. Well, describe them if they're relevant. If not, just skip them. I trust your judgment."

"You trust my judgment?" Angie smiled at him. "I already like you better than my parents."

"I know what you mean." Matt smiled back. He liked her. She didn't seem weirded out by any of this. Being treated just like anyone else on a first meeting shouldn't have been remarkable, but it was. Sadly.

"Okay. Chapter one, the history of the written word…" Angie finished reading the first paragraph before glancing up at Matt who looked liked a president being fed the latest press briefings during a crisis. She laughed and stopped. "How was that?"

"That's great, but you can go faster if you want. I've got quick ears." Matt paused. "What's so funny?"

"I'm sorry, you just looked really serious, like I was telling you bad news or something."

"Well, I guess that's just me listening intently." Matt blushed. "If this was for real, I'd probably be taking notes while you're reading. And I hope it's okay if I tape you?"

"Sure. As long as I don't have to listen to it, you can tape me all you want." Angie hesitated for a moment. "So, do I get the job?"

"Yeah, consider yourself hired."

"Awesome! Now what? I guess you need my number, huh? And do you want to set up a time?"

"Okay, one thing at a time." Matt smiled at her enthusiasm. The pay wasn't much but Angie acted like she'd just landed her dream job. "First, I'll get your number." He walked over to his desk and sat down on the chair and pulled out an index card, put it in the slate and got ready to punch in the dots. "Whenever you're ready."

"Uh, 355-2903." Angie craned her neck to see what he was doing. "Okay, call me stupid, but I had no idea you could write Braille like that."

"I didn't use to know either so don't feel bad."

"Okay, I won't."

"Alright, I guess that's it. How about if I call you tomorrow after class? We don't have too much going on yet."

"Sure, that's fine." Angie went for the door. Foggy was lying on the couch and immediately sat up to brush a couple of cookie crumbs off his shirt.

"How did you do?" Foggy asked. He wouldn't have asked if he hadn't been completely sure.

"I passed," she said jokingly.

"Good for you. He runs a pretty tight ship you know."

"I bet he does." Angie laughed and turned around when Matt came out behind her.

"Are you guys talking about me?"

"Yeah, I think he's trying to scare me off," Angie said.

"But I'm so _nice_," Matt smiled in Angie's direction. "But you'll find that out."

"I'm sure I will. Bye, you guys."

Foggy waited for Angie to close the door. "We should ask her to go bowling with us."

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, it's the only sport I'm reasonably good at, and I thought we could ask her to bring Molly."

"Wait, who are you and what happened to Foggy?"

"No, I'm still me. _You_ would have to ask."

"Uh huh."

"If I asked, they would never go."

"Don't you think they'd be more suspicious of a blind guy asking them to go bowling?"

"No, they'd be intrigued to find out how you do it. Speaking of which, how _do_ you do it?"

"I never said I did it well, remember?"

"So you'll ask?"

"Sure, what the hell. Bowling huh?"


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

Wednesday had gotten off to a great start. Madame Laroche, Matt's French teacher, actually called on him in class, more than once, and Foggy found out that he wasn't miles behind everyone else like he'd thought. Quite the opposite. It was a common misconception to believe that everyone else was always better prepared or more confident or knowledgeable when, most of the time, that was just an illusion.

After lunch, Foggy had a math class while Matt was busy with world history. It was the only class, aside from their respective foreign language of choice, that they weren't taking together. Foggy felt a little uncomfortable attacking the mystery of introductory multivariate calculus all by himself, but by the end of the class he'd found what might be a new friend in an equally confused fellow student. He didn't seem like he felt he belonged there either, but he was nice. Before going in their opposite directions, they had exchanged phone numbers and a promise to get together to study for their first quiz.

Matt, meanwhile, listened intently to a lecture about the Phoenicians. His professor, a Dr. Chase, was a woman he guessed might be in her mid-thirties. She had a passion for her subject that was contagious and her lecture was delivered in a voice that had a certain amount of, well, _sex appeal_. Matt was curious to know if her appearance matched his impressions of her, from the words she spoke to the scent of her when they'd met earlier. But Foggy wasn't there and he wasn't going to ask anyone else about it. At least not yet.

With ten minutes left on the clock, Dr. Chase had announced that the students were going to work in groups to prepare presentations on various aspects of early civilization. After she was done calling the members of Matt's group, she had specifically instructed them to meet where he was sitting rather than just let them all congregate spontaneously, as she had done with everyone else. The instruction had made perfect sense, but Matt had to force himself to ignore the feeling of wanting to disappear completely, and just suck it up. He didn't like being singled out. What hurt more was the sarcastic 'Oh great' comment whispered by one student at the realization that he'd be stuck with the blind guy. Things didn't get much better when Matt learned that his group had been assigned to do a review on early writing systems. What the hell was he going to do with _that_?

With five minutes left on the clock, his three team mates sat down on chairs around him, their sounds blending with the cacophony of thirty students all talking at the same time, making plans to get together and dividing up the work.

"I'm Matt." Matt moved his hand out to the side in a small arc, like a short and abrupt wave. It was easier for him to go first, to break the ice.

"Joanie," said the girl on his left. She was followed by the girl on his right. "And I'm Georgia."

The guy in the row in front of him, who had just blown him off without knowing that Matt had heard it, turned around. "Joel." He paused "So, can you do this or what?"

"Oh my god," Joanie gasped and Matt got a pretty good sense that she was staring down the offending party.

"Do what exactly?" This Joel guy obviously didn't mind blowing him off in person either. At least there was some amount of honesty there.

"You know what I mean." Joel wasn't into political correctness and he definitely wasn't going to offer anyone else a free ride.

"You honestly think I'd _be_ here if I couldn't pull my own weight?" Matt couldn't remember being that pissed off at someone in quite a while, with the obvious exception of the party the previous weekend. At least pissed off was much better than some of the other feelings he'd been harboring lately.

"Sorry, man. I'm just asking. Chill, okay?"

"Well you don't have to be such an asshole." Georgia hissed. Neither one of them knew each other, but she and Joanie were already bonding over their mutual shock at Joel's behavior as they traded concerned looks.

"Okay, my bad. I said I was sorry. I'm just not into these stupid group projects, okay? I'm not going to do anyone else's work, that's all I'm saying."

"Well, I'm not actually stupid so that's not going to be a problem." Matt took a deep breath and decided to cool it for the benefit of the two innocent bystanders. "How about if we just meet after school or something and just split up the work?"

"Yeah, that sounds good," Joanie said and she saw Georgia nod in agreement. She really didn't care what Joel thought. "How about tomorrow afternoon?"

They made plans to meet at the nearby cafeteria the following day at four, and Matt made secret plans to study up on ancient scripts before then. He was going to have to go to the library, and he was going to have to call Angie. At least this might be a good time to bring up bowling.

ooOoo

"He said _what_ exactly?" Angie couldn't believe Matt's brief account of what had brought about their meeting.

"Most people are a little more subtle about that kind of thing, but at least he's showing his true colors. So, I should be grateful, I guess."

"No, you shouldn't be. He sounds like a complete asshole. If you give me his name, I'll have one of my brothers beat him up."

Matt laughed at the serious tone in Angie's voice. "I don't think either one of us is looking to get expelled here." Then his curiosity got the better of him. "So, how many brothers do you have?"

"Five. I'm the only girl. And I'm the youngest, so you can imagine." She shrugged.

"I think I get the idea. Very over-protective, right?"

"Yeah. Which is really complete bull. I can take care of myself." She smiled. "Heck, some might even call me feisty."

"I'd believe that. I wish I had brothers or sisters. I hardly have any relatives at all." Matt realized he was bordering on meaningless small talk, but he wanted to get to know Angie. Especially since they were going to be spending so much time together.

"Yeah, we're all pretty close. It's good. Very loud dinners though."

"Ouch."

"What's that?"

"I'm not much for anything loud. It's just one of those things. I guess I'm better off just sticking with dad." Matt hadn't mentioned that his mother was dead, and Angie didn't ask about it.

"Not to change subjects, but what do we need to do here?" Angie took a look around. They were still standing just inside the entrance of the library, where she'd found him waiting for her.

"We need to go find a computer terminal and see what they have on early writing systems. This is just so I'll have some clue on what I might want to do with this subject. It's not what I would have picked, that's for sure."

"Yeah, I take it hieroglyphs isn't really up your alley, huh?"

"Not really, no."

"So, there are a few desks over on the left. How do we...?"

"I'll just take your arm if you don't mind." Matt was aiming for minimal disturbance. This was a library, after all.

"Okay, sure. I've just never done this before." She felt Matt's hand around her upper arm, just above the elbow and started walking.

They each grabbed a chair by one of the computers that contained a database of every book in the building and beyond, and Angie pulled out a pad and a pencil to write down the section and shelf numbers.

"What are we looking for? Early writing systems, alphabets?"

"Things like that, yeah." Matt decided to just give Angie free reins, even though he wasn't much for being passive. This was the kind of thing he wished he could simply do for himself, especially since it was something of a pain to have to explain to someone else what he wanted. He could hear Angie's fingers type away on the keyboard and then stop before hitting the enter key, which sounded big and clunky.

"It looks like all of these books are pretty much in the same general area. You want to head over there and check it out?"

"Yeah, why not? That sounds like a plan." Matt got to his feet, careful not to scrape the chair too loudly since there were other people all around and the acoustics of the building weren't particularly forgiving.

Buildings with strong echoes had a special quality. When it was relatively quiet, the echoes of the few pure sounds around seemed to enhance Matt's radar sense. While soft things that didn't reflect sounds very well were still a little vague, the edges of solid things became sharper and he could get a very good sense of walls, divisions and pieces of furniture without having to concentrate much at all. It was as if these two means of perception, radar and hearing, were telling the same story, enhancing each other.

The opposite happened when there were too many sounds bouncing around. It created a kind of interference that made the strange almost-image in his mind break down, like a badly double-exposed photo. For this reason, libraries were nice to move around in. They had a great echo and just the right amount of background noise. Moving between the book shelves, Matt could perceive where each book ended and the next began, and he marveled at the unusual amount of detail. It truly was a miracle, the things he could do, and he felt like he should appreciate it more than he did and not get hung up on the things that eluded him, and always would.

"Okay, this is it," Angie whispered. Matt was grateful for the quiet in the back of the building and couldn't help fantasizing about how nice it would be if everyone always spoke in a whisper all the time.

"What do you see?"

"Give me a minute to size this place up and I'll get back to you." Angie turned around and smiled at Matt who just stood there waiting patiently.

Matt could sense Angie pacing back and forth, her head tilted upward. Her form was not as distinct as the books she was looking at. Neither sound nor radar bounced off people as well as hard things, but this was as close as he was ever going to get to getting a good look at her. He couldn't tell anything about her face except where her nose was but he had a very good idea of where her body began and ended and he knew that she was resting her hands on her hips.

"I'm sorry if this isn't much of a job." Matt almost felt bad for making her do this, even if she _was_ getting paid.

"What do you mean? This is fine." Angie turned around again. "I could be stuck handling garbage in the cafeteria, you know."

"Yeah, I know." Matt smiled at her. She seemed sincere.

"Hey, I used to work at McDonald's on the weekends while I was in high school. I'd stink of grease all the time, not to mention that yucky chopped onion smell on my hands that took days to wash off. I'd take this job over that one every day of the week."

"Okay, so I see how this might be better than McDonald's, but thanks anyway."

"Don't thank me so soon. I still haven't found anything, have I?"

"I'll try not to interrupt you." Matt wasn't usually a chatter box, but he felt silly just standing there quietly.

"Okay, how about this one for starters?" Angie got up on her toes and pulled a slender volume from the shelf. "'A History of Writing' by Albertine Gaur."

"Never heard of him so I assume it's great."

"I haven't either and I think it's a 'her' actually."

"Of course. Right."

"Okay. You wanna go sit down somewhere?"

"Yeah, are there any empty rooms?"

"I think so." Angie noticed Matt holding his hand out for her and nudged it with her elbow. She wasn't sure that was the correct protocol but it seemed to work well enough and she set off back in the direction they came from. "Just out of curiosity, how many readers have you gone through? I'm just trying to get a feel for whether you're going to fire me or not."

"Wow... Well, not that many really. And I've never fired anyone, they all quit on me first, but I guess this isn't the kind of gig you keep for years and years. So, if you want to quit I'm not going to hold it against you or anything."

"Okay, that's good to know. You're a good boss." She laughed at the surprised look on his face when she'd called him 'boss'.

"Boss, huh? I like it." This was certainly the first time anyone had called him that, but he realized that it was good that she seemed to have the right idea. Some seemed to think it was the other way around.

"Okay, here's the door." Angie got the door to one of the smaller rooms open as Matt let go of her and they both sat down at the table. Matt fished his things out of his backpack, and Angie could only identify the tape recorder. What the other things were for would probably become apparent so she didn't bother asking about it.

"All right. I'm all set." Matt listened patiently while she opened the book and let out a deep sigh.

"Wow. So how do I describe cuneiform script?" As she had half-expected, this particular book had lots of pictures in it. And the were all in the 'sort of relevant to the material' category.

"I know, this was kind of what I was imagining too. Just read what it says and do your best with the pictures. It's fine." He thought about it for a second. "You know what? If there are individual characters that look fairly simple, you could trace them in my hand maybe."

"For real?"

"Yeah, like this." He put his hand out. "Just write a letter with your finger and I'll tell you which one it is." Matt's smile was a little cryptic, like he was performing a magic trick and had asked her to pick a card at random.

"Okay..." Angie did as she was told.

"Lower-case 't'."

"Yeah! So you know all the letters and stuff? Like, the printed letters, I mean."

"Sure. I wasn't born blind. I only lost my sight four years ago."

"God, I didn't know." Angie suddenly remembered something Matt had said earlier that had led her to suspect he'd been sighted once, but she hadn't really thought about it at the time.

"Maybe that's because I didn't tell you." Matt smiled and pulled his hand back again. "But it's okay. Shit happens, I guess. Or, in my case, accidents happen. But I could have died, so I was pretty lucky when you think about it."

"I'm really sorry."

"Don't be, I'm fine. Really."

"Okay." Angie nodded to herself. She couldn't really put her finger on why it should matter, but she was surprised to learn that whatever had happened to Matt had been that recent. "So anyway," she looked in the book again, "I think I could maybe show you some stuff that way. That's pretty cool."

"Yeah, whatever works, right?"

"Absolutely."

"Just one more thing before we start." Matt figured it would be better to get that one last thing out of the way. "Foggy... You know, my roommate Foggy, was kind of wondering if you and Molly might want to go bowling with us later."

"Bowling? Like tonight?" Angie was wondering if this might be a joke, but Matt looked dead serious.

"Yeah."

"He got a thing for her or something?"

"What?"

"Does Foggy have a _thing _for Molly?" Angie was getting the sneaking suspicion that she was being used, and most guys seemed to only be into Molly.

"I don't know," Matt lied.

"It's okay. But you guys know she's got a boyfriend, right? And they're annoyingly serious, it's all she ever talks about."

"Yes, we know she's got a boyfriend. Look, we're all new here, and I think he and I both were just thinking that it's nice to get to know people. That's all. So are you in?"

"Yeah, what the heck? I'd have to ask her though. I should probably mention that I'm not much of a bowler."

"You're probably better than I am."

"I sincerely hope so." Angie said, amused.

"Oh, and you're not getting paid for it."

"Yeah, I sort of got that. But, speaking of things I _am_ getting paid for..."

"I know, we should get going on this, I guess." Matt leaned back in his chair. For the next hour, he let Angie's voice take him away to civilizations far away and long forgotten.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

"You're like the best roommate ever, you know that?" Foggy couldn't believe Matt had actually gotten Angie and Molly to agree to go bowling with them.

"Oh yeah? As compared to all the other ones you've had?"

"Seriously, you cook, you make me look good in front of my parents, you get girls to go bowling with us… Oh, and you're nice and all that too, of course."

"Thanks, Foggy," Matt said slowly, contemplating what Foggy had just said. "I'm flattered. I _think_."

"You think they want to go somewhere for burgers or something first?"

"Yeah, I hope so. I'm starving. But you know this isn't a _date_, right?"

"Sure, I know. They're off-limits. We're just four buddies hanging out, right?"

"Exactly."

"So what's Angie like?"

"She's really fun. And she gets what I want her to do, which is a nice bonus. Though, apparently, she's not a great bowler. Or so she says anyway."

"I think we're about to find out. Here they are." Foggy stood up a little straighter next to his car that was parked on the street about a block from their building. Molly and Angie both waved and ran to meet them.

"Hey guys!" Molly looked much more enthusiastic than Foggy had expected.

"Nice of you to join us," Matt said.

"Yeah, well. We didn't have anything else to do this evening. And all I had to do to get Molly to come was mention bowling. I honestly had no idea she was a bowler." Angie turned to Molly with a big grin.

"It's not exactly something I brag about," Molly said, blushing. "It would have ruined my reputation as head cheerleader."

"Seriously?" Foggy knew that bowling wasn't that cool a sport. Heck, the fact that he could do something well was pretty much a guarantee that it would also come with a geek label, but he didn't know that cheerleading and bowling didn't mix. Maybe it was just her school.

"Well, you know. It was high school." Everyone nodded as she said that. That seemed to explain everything.

"So that means you must be pretty good then?" Matt asked while turning around to find the door handle on Foggy's car. Foggy was already getting in on the driver's side.

"Yeah, I'm pretty decent. But you wouldn't know it to look at me." She suddenly found herself blushing again. "I mean, people wouldn't know to... Never mind."

"You said you were head cheerleader, so I get the picture," Matt smiled reassuringly. He took the seat next to Foggy, folded his cane and closed the door while the girls made themselves comfortable in the backseat.

"So," Foggy said, looking at them in the rearview mirror, "how about if we grab a bite to eat first? Is that okay with you guys or did you eat dinner already?"

"No, that's fine with me. I haven't eaten," Angie said.

"I'm game," Molly added. "There's this fifties style diner a few blocks south of here; they have a jukebox and everything. Unless you had some place in mind."

"No, I think we're open to suggestions." Matt turned his head to face them. "Right, Foggy?"

"Yeah, I like any place that has a jukebox." Foggy got the engine running and started pulling out from the curb.

"This place has the greatest cheeseburgers ever. Dan and I go there all the time."

"That would be the boyfriend," Angie informed everyone and Matt imagined her rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, he's at Harvard," Molly said, sounding both proud and sad at the same time. "My mom doesn't like him for some reason, but I don't get that. It's not like he's a bum or anything. Obviously. "

"Right, I kind of got that feeling," Matt said. "I was behind you guys in line when you checked in, remember?"

"I remember that! You were with your dad."

"Yeah, that was him."

"He seemed like a tough guy."

"Well, he's a professional boxer. Not remotely famous or anything, put it pays the rent."

"Geez, I don't know anyone with a job like that," Angie said. "You guys live here in town?"

"Yeah, I'm from the Kitchen; you couldn't pay me to leave this town. Where are you guys from?"

"We both went to Townsend Harris High School. I'm from Elmhurst," Angie said.

"I'm from Queens too," Molly added, "Jackson Heights. What about you Foggy?"

"Long Island. Where are all the out of state people?"

"Oh, they're around. I think everyone else in our hall is from some place else," Molly said. She suddenly caught a glimpse of the place they were going, all painted in lights pastels. "Oh, wait! This is it!"

When they reached the diner, Foggy immediately felt like he had traveled through time. It was true that none of them were around in the fifties to know what those times were really like, but the place was certainly looked like the pop culture version of the decade.

"Wow, I guess they like pastels here," Foggy said, getting a 'well, duh' look from both of the girls. Matt, of course, didn't have an opinion, but Foggy decided to at least try to give him an idea of the place, and leaned over in his roommate's direction. "This place is crazy, Matt. The walls are a light yellow, all the seats are baby blue and there are pink trims on everything. And they have all of these pictures of famous people from the fifties. And there's this jukebox right over here, and..."

"Are they on roller skates?" Matt had noticed the lack of footsteps immediately before identifying the sound of tiny wheels. Letting his radar sense gradually fill the room, he could easily follow the movements of the waiting staff.

"Yeah, how did you know?" Foggy was just getting to that part, but Matt beat him to it.

"Attention to detail," Matt said, smiling cryptically.

"Wow, you're good," Angie added before nodding to the approaching waitress who was wearing a tight baby pink outfit. She didn't seem to be loving it and she wasn't spectacular on the skates either.

A couple of minutes later, they were seated in a booth by the window, and Foggy grabbed the stiff laminated menu off the table. "You want me to read what they have, Matt?"

"Thanks. I can't exactly ask Angie to do it, because then I'd have to pay her." Matt smiled at his own joke.

"Oh come on, I'd totally do it for free!" Angie gave him an exasperated look that she knew was in vain.

"Yeah, I know. I'm just kidding."

Foggy quickly covered the whole menu while Angie and Molly were busy guessing the calorie content of each item. What was it with girls and counting calories? When all was said and done, both Matt and Foggy settled on the bacon cheeseburger special with onion rings while Molly ordered a grilled chicken sandwich and Angie got the fish and chips.

"So, guys," Molly started, "does anyone have a quarter for the jukebox?"

"Sure," Foggy reached for the change in his pocket, "What song are you going to pick?"

"I thought I'd start with Mister Sandman, I love that song." Molly didn't ask for input from anyone else before skipping over to the jukebox.

"If you ask me, I think fifties music is kind of lame," Angie said. "Now the _sixties_ is a different story. I mean, you had the Beatles, the Rolling Stones... Now that's a revolution in music history, right?"

"What's that?" Molly ran back and sat down just as the music started playing.

"Oh, I was just saying that the sixties totally _own_ the fifties."

"What do you mean? Perfect housewives with a-line skirts, what could possibly beat that? You know everyone was always happy back then, right?" Molly said with just a touch of sarcasm.

"Sure, there's that. But what about Simon and Garfunkel? Come on!"

"Hey, I'm voting for the nineties," Foggy said in between bites of what he had to admit was one of the best burgers he'd ever had.

"Well, yeah," Molly said, "the present is always better."

"Is it?" Matt asked the question more to get a discussion going than to question Molly's statement.

"Well, I think in our society, that's usually true. That's what progress is, right?" Angie said.

"I'm not saying I don't agree with you. I think people have more choices now than they did forty years ago, or a hundred years ago, but I don't think it's like gravity or anything. It's a little more complicated than that. I mean, are we always happier just because we're technically 'better off'?"

"Is this the part where we start trying to figure out what happiness is?" Foggy said.

"Well, happiness is pretty simple, it's just hard to measure."

"So, what makes _you_ happy, Matt?" Angie was curious to hear the answer, because he seemed to be a rather happy go lucky guy despite what most people would imagine to be pretty dire circumstances.

"Next question, please," he joked before taking a few seconds to think about it. Jumping off rooftops made him happy, but he couldn't exactly mention that. Fortunately, it wasn't the only thing. "I don't know. I think spending time with really nice people that you care about makes you happy. It doesn't have to be much harder than that. Then I guess there are things like, well, music and stuff. Beauty." Matt realized he must have sound a lot dreamier than he thought because everyone went quiet for a couple of seconds.

"Wow, you're both deep and sensitive," Angie tried to go for a joke to lighten the mood. She knew that everyone was thinking the same thing: How much beauty could there be left in the world when you couldn't see? "So I guess music means a lot to you, huh?"

"Sure, I like music. Doesn't everyone?"

"Yeah, sure. I dig everything from Nirvana to Madonna," Molly said.

"Same here," Angie added. "What about you, Foggy?"

"Oh, I don't know, lots of stuff." Foggy was afraid to mention anyone in particular. He never really had a good idea of what the cool kids were listening to. He knew he shouldn't be so self-conscious about things, but it was easier said than done.

"I had this music teacher in high school who really turned me on to a lot of classical music," Matt said. "I like contemporary stuff too, but that's like just listening to someone telling a story. Which is fine, but with classical music it's like an empty canvas that you can project your own things on. Does that make sense?"

"What did I tell you? He's deep." Angie laughed.

"Yeah, I think that makes sense," Molly said, nodding slowly. "It's like pure emotion or something."

Foggy looked at the two girls sitting across from them and couldn't help noticing the fact that they were looking at Matt like he was just about the most intriguing person they'd ever met. He _was_ intriguing, even Foggy thought so, but there seemed to be a disproportionate amount of gushing going on.

"So, do you play an instrument?" Angie asked.

"Yeah, I play the piano some." As if feeling a need to explain himself, he added "It was the same teacher who taught me. I never took lessons or anything, we never had the money for that."

"Wow, I'd love to hear you play something," Molly said and Angie seemed to be thinking the same thing.

Matt blushed. "I'm not really that good. I enjoy it, but unfortunately being blind doesn't magically turn on the great musician gene or anything. I guess people think so, but it's definitely a myth."

"Well, I was in the band," Foggy said jokingly, knowing that no matter what he said, he wouldn't be able to compete. "So, are you guys ready to go bowling?"

"Yeah, sure. Uh huh." Both girls nodded, still a little enthralled with Matt.

They all put down the money for the bill and got back to Foggy's car. It was time for a change of venue. Foggy was hoping that this might actually be something that would make him look good. Unless Matt would win just by competing, which seemed to be the case with a lot of things he did. He decided to not let himself feel too jealous. It wasn't as if he would have wanted to trade places.

The bowling alley had that unmistakable bowling smell. It was obvious even to Foggy, Angie and Molly and all Matt could think about was bowling shoes. Everywhere. Or, so it seemed. Somewhere underneath that smell was the wax they used to polish the lanes, the scents from the tiny in-house bar and the smell from the armpits of the man in the small reception area.

"Hey," Foggy said, leading his brave troops to the counter. The man on the other side moved his greasy and rather unwieldy body from the office chair he was sitting on to a standing position. "We're four people, so I guess we need two lanes. Do you have any open ones that are next to each other?"

"Yeah," the man said, chewing his stale gum and giving the four college kids a once over, "but he ain't bringing that stick in here. It's gonna scratch up the floor."

"What?" Foggy felt his jaw drop.

"It's _not_ going to scratch the floor." Matt couldn't believe his luck. Two idiots in one day, what were the odds?

"Look kid, sorry about your handicap and what not, but I'm not gonna have the manager give me shit for letting you leave scuff marks all over the place. Got it?"

"Come on, Matt, we can go somewhere else," Angie gave the greasy man a cold stare. She was surprised to see Matt turn around to face her with an unmistakable look of defiance.

"No, we're not going anywhere else. This is ridiculous," Matt turned back in the direction of mister flabby "not to mention _illegal_."

"Yeah, I sorta think it might be." Foggy was trying to be helpful, but he was wondering if it was worth getting into an argument about.

"Guys, I'm just trying to protect the property here. What law says I can't do that?" He kept chewing his gum and Matt could hear it dance around the inside of the man's mouth. His breath was a stinker too.

"Okay, first of all I want you to take a look at this." Matt flipped his cane upside down and briefly toyed with the idea of shoving the tip up the man's nose. "That's a nylon tip. It's not going to scratch _anything_, okay?" He expected a response of some kind, but the man just stood there smacking his gum against his teeth. "Secondly, you're in violation of paragraph fifteen, section five of the ADA."

For what seemed like at least ten seconds, all Matt could hear was that damn gum, until the guy finally sighed and spoke. "Okay, fine. It's four bucks per person."

When they sat down to put their shoes on, Foggy leaned over in Matt's direction. "That was great, I've never heard anyone quote actual legislature before." He chuckled.

Matt smiled. "Oh, I totally made that up."

"What, there's no law against that?"

"Oh, there is. I just don't know which one. You've never done that?"

"Legal jargon improv? Eh, no." Foggy looked at Matt and shook his head. That guy was really something else. "Things like that happen a lot?"

"No, not really." Matt looked up when he noticed the girls coming toward them.

"Hey, guys! You're totally rocking those shoes." Angie laughed. _No one_ looked good in bowling shoes. It was an inevitable fact of life.

"Thanks." Matt stood up and wiggled his toes. The shoes fit okay, but weren't exactly comfortable.

"Here," Foggy said as he touched Matt's hand to get the two of them moving toward their lane.

"No thanks, Foggy." Matt gave him a mischievous smile and started walking toward the sound of rolling bowling balls and falling pins, relaxing his mind completely to the point where his radar sense turned into that vague tactile feeling which would let him know if he was approaching something big and solid at close range, but did little of anything else. "I feel like leaving some scuff marks."

"Aw, geez." Foggy glanced over at the man behind the counter who had just reluctantly taken their money. His eyes followed Matt's cane-assisted though otherwise comfortable stroll down the carpeted path that led to the bowling area before giving Foggy a look that seemed to say 'I told you so'. "Matt, wait up! Turn left!" Foggy and the girls followed and quickly caught up with him.

"Sorry guys, I just felt the need to exercise my right to be a pain in the ass."

"Well, he's got a pretty big ass, I'm sure it can take it," Angie said.

"Does he really?" Matt asked even though he knew the guy was huge. Maybe they would tell him something else about him he didn't already know.

"Oh yeah," Molly said, giggling, "and he looked like someone just dumped a tub of lard in his hair. And don't even get me started on the sweat stains. Creepy asshole..."

"Okay, guys. This is it." Foggy stopped behind their assigned lanes, right next to a big rack of bowling balls of different weights.

They all spent a minute scouring for that one lucky bowling ball that had their name on it and then decided to leave the score-keeping to Molly.

"Are we doing guys against girls?" Foggy asked.

"Sure, what do you say, Angie?" Molly looked at her friend.

"Alright, but I'm a beginner, just so you know."

"And I'm blind. That should even the score, don't you think?" Matt said jokingly, looking in Angie's direction.

"It _should_." Angie shrugged and sat down next to Matt on the bench. "Why don't you guys go first then? Show us how it's done."

Foggy picked up his bowling ball and gave Molly a deadly look across the ball rack. "Ladies first."

"Okay, you're on." Molly scrunched up her nose and looked down the lane at the pins with complete concentration. She'd always been competitive, it was what had won her the head cheerleader position in high school, among other things.

Foggy watched with bated breath as Molly scored a strike and did a little happy dance. Angie clapped and laughed at Molly's display of enthusiasm. She danced back to the bench, gave Angie a high five, and now everyone's eyes were on Foggy. Even Matt sat in attention, like he was listening for the sound of success. "Okay, no pressure," Foggy mumbled quietly, reminding himself that this was a friendly game of bowling an hardly a matter of life or death. He took the three steps forward and rolled the ball. From the moment it hit the floor, he knew it wasn't good, just harrowingly escaping the gutter on the left side and taking three pins with it.

"That's okay, Foggy. A spare is still good." Matt had his radar sense focused in the direction of the end of the lane and the pins were close enough to be perceived. Even if they hadn't been, his hearing would have clued him in on exactly which pins had gone down.

"I'm telling you, I swear Molly did some weird voodoo on me." Foggy tried to shake his nervousness off with a joke and relaxed a little when he looked at trio on the bench while waiting for his ball to come back. They were all rooting for him, including Molly and Angie who weren't even on his team. It was a nice feeling, being among friends. Foggy took a deep breath and had another go at it. "Come on, come on, come on…" He watched the ball knock over the remaining pins and let out a deep sigh of relief.

"Nice, Foggy!" Angie said, as she got up to take her turn.

Matt held his hand up, waiting for and receiving a high-five from Foggy. "I told you so. A spare is good."

Foggy leaned over and whispered, "So, you're up next."

"Yeah, let's wait until Angie's done and I'll have you help me out, okay?"

Foggy nodded, mostly to himself and looked at Angie. She was lifting the ball up and down a little, as if trying to gauge its weight. Angie took two steps forward before tripping over her own feet, the ball flying out of her hands and straight into the gutter. There was a moment of silence before she rolled over on her back, laughing uncontrollably. "She tripped, Matt."

"Yeah, I kind of got that." Matt smiled. Angie's laughter was contagious. It was good to be around people who didn't take themselves too seriously. He tried to get into that spirit of things as he mentally prepared himself to get up there and probably look like a fool.

"Okay, Angie, you get one more go. This time, just focus on getting it near the pins," Molly said as her friend readied herself for another try. She leaned forward in her seat, concentrating on what Angie was doing, as if that would make a difference.

Angie decided to play it safe and walked all the way up to the line, spread her legs and squatted down a few inches. She held the ball between her knees and let it roll. It least it wasn't going to end up in the gutter. "Yoo-hoo, two pins!" she said when the ball made it to the end of the lane with just barely enough momentum to do any damage. She turned around and gave Molly two thumbs up before doing her own little dance and walking over to the bench.

"Okay Foggy, give me your arm," Matt stood up and reached for him. "Now take me to where the marks are."

"You got it," Foggy said, excited at the prospect that his roommate would probably be better than Angie. While it was true that the guy was blind as a bat, Foggy had seen his athletic prowess up close. Odds were he'd be decent at this too.

"Okay, now hand me the ball."

"Yes, doctor!" Foggy picked up Matt's ball and put it in his outstretched hands.

"Now, get behind me and just make sure I'm pointed in the right direction." Matt realized how funny that probably sounded. He was also vaguely aware that he had an audience, even though there weren't that many people in the alley.

"Okay." Foggy grabbed Matt's shoulders and shifted him a few degrees, before he got a better idea and walked around to the other side and stopped in the middle of the lane where the line was. "How about you just aim over here?"

Matt laughed. "Okay, that works. You still want to stand there when I drop this on your head?"

"No, getting out of your way now. So just… it's over there." Foggy waved toward the pins, suddenly reminded of how pointless that was.

"Thanks, man. You've been very helpful." Matt shot Foggy a crooked smile.

Matt decided not to cheat. Without focus, the pins were too far away to be sensed and he wasn't going to let his perceptions expand and sneak a peak. For this to be a fair game, he was going to bowl blind. On the other hand, ever since his close encounter with radiation, his body awareness had been heightened. The changes he'd undergone had endowed him with a superhuman level of proprioception, the inner sense of touch with which one perceived one's own body. He _could_ bowl blind, no problem. He could do it better than anyone. If he missed, it would all be Foggy's fault.

"Come on, Matt! Make me look good," Foggy pleaded, well aware of his part in all of it.

"Okay, here goes," Matt went through the motions and set the ball rolling. He listened for it hit and smiled. "Did I just hear a strike?"

"Holy crap! Yeah, you're really good." Foggy knew he shouldn't be surprised, but was there no end to Matt's apparent physical abilities? So much for trying to look good for his own efforts.

"Wow, a blind guy's got me beat," Angie said and patted Matt on the shoulder. "I'm not sure my pride can take it."

"Wait, you have _pride_?" Matt laughed and winced at Angie's fist against his shoulder.

"Watch it, dude."

"No can do. You're not going to hit me again, are you?"

"No, you might fire me. I may be a bad bowler, but I'm not stupid."

An hour and a half later, it was clear that the only one with a handicap was Molly, though hers was a very charming one called Angie. Matt and Foggy both bowled series in the two hundreds, though Molly beat both of them. With Angie on her team, she could have had a perfect score and still not stood a chance.

"You don't hate me just because I suck, do you?" Angie pulled Molly closer in a girlie hug when they got back out on the sidewalk.

"I don't hate you, sweetie, I just hate losing." Molly laughed. Angie wasn't one of her closest friends, but she had always been a lot of fun. She was definitely more interesting than most of the people on the squad.

"Well, I think I speak for both of us when I say that it was an honor Molly," Matt said. "You are one heck of a bowler."

"Well, thank you. You're not too shabby yourself." Molly was quite happy with the evening. She missed Dan a lot, she thought about him every fifteen minutes it seemed, but she had to admit that, so far, college was all she had hoped for. And now she was enjoying the buzz of beating two guys, and the perfect late summer evening.

"I'm not a great bowler, but thanks for a really great evening. You guys are cool." Angie looked from Molly to Foggy before turning her head to the night sky.

"Well, it was our pleasure. Maybe we can do it again some time." Foggy was happy with how the evening had gone too. It hadn't been a date, and he knew that he didn't stand a chance with Molly, but they had all had a really good time. It was odd to think that just a few days ago, he hadn't known any of these people and now they already had great memories of each other to look back on in fifty years. They had a shared history now, however brief it might be. As far as Matt went, Foggy already had the feeling that they would be friends for years, perhaps for life. Sometimes, you just knew about those things.

They got back to their building and said goodbye to the girls. Matt and Angie made plans to meet the next day. When he and Foggy got back to their room, Matt got an idea. "Do they have roof access in this building?"

"Yeah, I think so." Foggy wasn't sure what Matt was after.

"You want to go check it out?"

"What's there to check out on the roof?"

"I just have a thing about rooftops, okay? This might be the last warm evening in a while, and we might not get the chance to do this later."

"Do what exactly?"

"Hang out on the roof," Matt said as if the concept of it was perfectly self-explanatory.

"Alright, but just for the record, I think you're nuts. And if I fall off and die, my parents are going to be seriously pissed off."

"We'll do some star gazing, come on."

"Wow, you're such a romantic."

"Don't flatter yourself, buddy. You're not my type." Matt laughed.

"Oh what the hell… Live dangerously, huh?"

"Exactly." There was just something about the air up high late at night. He'd always liked it, and Matt was sure that Foggy would too.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

The access door to the roof was less than clearly marked, but Matt seemed to have a good idea of where it would be and Foggy finally found it. Their apartment keys fit in the lock you had to open to get back in again, so they could let it slide shut behind them.

"What did I tell you? This is great!" Matt removed his shades and put them in his shirt pocket so he could feel the wind on his entire face. He was too self-conscious about his eyes to even think of doing that around people in general, but Foggy was in his inner circle now. Besides, he hadn't been too freaked out the first time, which made Matt feel comfortable. He walked up toward the edge and could hear Foggy nervously shuffling his feet behind him.

"Yeah, it's great. Just don't... Don't fall off the edge, okay." Foggy couldn't really enjoy the scenery as long as Matt was standing a couple of feet from the edge. There was a low railing going around the building, made of some kind of heavy metal from the sound of Matt's cane against it, but it wasn't high enough to stop someone from easily falling over.

"I won't fall. I promise." Matt turned his head toward the ground about ten stories down. His radar sense could just barely reach that far, but he could hear the cars and the people moving in the noisy stew down below. Around him, he could sense the nearest buildings, the two on each side and the one across the street, but there was nothing of the breathtaking view he knew had to be out there. Still, it was nice to be high up off the street. The air smelled cleaner and the noise was less intense. And the wind... The wind was great.

"You're right. It _is _nice up here." Foggy wouldn't go near the edge, but there was nothing there he wanted to see anyway. The real treat was the big skyscrapers fifteen blocks south and the stars that were just coming out. It was amazing that they could still be seen in the middle of the city, competing with all the other lights all around, but there they were, just twinkling away. "It's beautiful. But what do you...?

"Get out of it?" Matt turned back around to face Foggy.

"Yeah."

"Ever since I was a kid, I used to sneak up on the roof. Sometimes while dad was away and sometimes in the middle of the night when he was sleeping." Matt smiled at the thought of his secret mischief that was still ongoing. "I don't know what he would have done if he ever found out, but he never did. It was just the perfect way to get away, you know?"

"Well, I can sort of see that. I used to hide in this shed we had out back. But I guess I just didn't want my mom yelling at me for sticking my fingers in the jello." Foggy found a place to sit down where he could lean his back against a large square structure that had warm air blowing out through the top, a vent from the look of it.

"Sorry," Matt said when he lightly tapped Foggy's knee with the cane, after deciding that there was room enough for him to sit down too.

"That's okay, it didn't hurt."

"What is this? Some kind of vent?" Matt already knew what it was, probably before Foggy did. He could hear the sounds from the building rise up inside of it, and the warm air was unmistakable.

"Yeah. Take a seat." Foggy shifted to the side while Matt's free hand examined the side of the vent. He turned around and sat down.

"Well, anyway. I'd sneak up on the roof and I could stay up there for hours sometimes. It's hard, living in this city, to find some place where you can just be alone. I couldn't understand why more people didn't go up there. And I'd have to admit that the view was pretty great too. So, I may not have that anymore, but it's still nice to get away."

"Well, do you need some time alone now? I could go back down if you want." Foggy suspected that Matt might have asked him to come just so he could find the door.

"No." Matt shock his head. "I wanted you to come. I don't mind the company."

Foggy smiled, suddenly feeling honored that Matt had asked him to tag along. He also had to admit that part of him enjoyed that they were probably breaking the house rules just by being up there. "Good, 'cause it's nice up here."

"I told you so."

They sat in silence for a minute before Foggy asked "So what do you miss seeing the most?" He noticed Matt's surprised reaction, and immediately regretted the question. Maybe it was too personal.

"Wow." The question seemed a little out of the blue, but the answer wasn't that hard. "I guess it's lots of little things, but most of all... I mean, this is one thing." Matt lifted his hand in a vague upward gesture. "I miss the sky. You know, stars, the moon, sunsets, fluffy little clouds; looking out over the ocean all the way to the horizon when everything is all bright and clean."

Foggy silently watched Matt talk. At least it didn't seem to bother him much to talk about these things; he seemed more nostalgic than sad.

"And then there's this other thing. I _really_ miss eye contact."

"Eye contact?" Foggy wondered how that could even hold a candle to sunsets or stars.

"I know, it's not something most people would even think about. But when you look someone in the eye and they look back at you... there's a connection there. It's a social thing too, of course, but there's also something really emotionally satisfying about it that you don't even think about until you can't have it anymore."

"I never thought about that being such a big thing. Maybe you're right." Foggy _had_ missed that he and Matt couldn't exchange looks, and maybe that was the kind of thing he was talking about.

"Well, I don't know if it's a _huge_ thing, but it bugs me sometimes. Especially with my dad."

"But those are the big two? The things you miss?"

"Yeah, more or less. I miss other things too, of course, like being completely anonymous and being able to just blend in anywhere. It's funny, when I was little it used to bother me when people described me as 'the guy with the red hair' or 'the nerd'. Then I suddenly became 'the blind guy' and I started wishing I could just go back to being 'the redhead'. I understand why that happens. I was the only blind student at my high school so of course it made sense for people to talk about me that way if they didn't know my name. It doesn't mean I have to like it though."

"Hey, I can do you one worse."

"What's that?"

"I'm not even 'the blind guy', I'm 'the guy who's roommates with the blind guy'."

"Really? Who called you that?"

"One of the twins, couldn't tell which one. He was introducing me to this friend of his when we bumped into each other in the elevator yesterday."

"And this other guy knew who _I_ was?"

"Apparently. At least people remember who you are."

"I'd rather be remembered for something else. I haven't even done anything."

"You don't get it, do you?"

"Get what?"

"People think you're awesome. Everyone likes you. But I guess you're one of those cool people who doesn't even know they're cool."

"What's so cool about me?" Matt didn't feel cool. He still felt like an alien much of the time, and was surprised no one noticed.

"Like just now. Angie and Molly were hanging on your every word. The way Molly looks at you, you'd think she's about ready to dump that boyfriend."

"But I don't know how she looks at me." Matt smiled. "Besides, I'm not interested."

"If you could see, you would be."

"Well I can't, so there you go. She's nice, but I'm not attracted to her. Another thing, just because people are curious about me doesn't make me any more interesting once the novelty wears off, believe me. Most chicks like a guy with his own car."

"I have my own car, it doesn't seem to be helping much."

"Wait, are you _jealous _of me?" Matt teased.

"No. Maybe just a tiny bit." Foggy noticed Matt looking quite amused by the concept.

"You know what?" Matt laughed and turned to Foggy. "Another thing that bugs me is that I never got to see a girl naked."

"You mean 'live'?"

"Yeah, well I've seen the pictures... This guy I knew in fifth grade used to pass around his dad's pornos."

"We had a guy like that too."

"I guess most places do. Wherever there's a kid with something to prove and access to Playboy."

"Yeah." Foggy laughed. "So I take it you never... you know."

"Nope. You?"

"Are you _kidding _me?"

"Stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Selling yourself short."

"I'm not." Foggy sighed and leaned his head back. "I'm being realistic. Look, I know that people keep saying that good guys finish last and all that. And it's okay. I don't mind being the good guy, if that's what it means."

"Okay, I hear you."

They sat quietly for another minute. It was getting cold, but Matt didn't want to go inside just yet. It was good to take a break from everything, and he'd barely realized just how much he needed the rest. "You know, it's funny, but when I first got here, I had this silly idea that I'd crossed some kind of finish line. I never thought college would be easy or anything, but I thought I'd feel like I'd made it. But this is just another start line, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I think it is. Maybe death is the finish line." Foggy looked to the side with surprise when Matt chuckled.

"Wow, that's a little morbid, don't you think? No, it's... I just get so tired sometimes."

"Tired?" To Foggy, Matt seemed to have all the energy in the world.

"I worked _really _hard to get here. And I'm starting to realize that it's not going to get any easier. But I had a really good time tonight. Maybe I should study less, and go bowling more often, huh?"

"See, you're a good influence on me, and I'm totally bringing you down. My bad."

"No, it's good. I need it."

"So what kind of girls _do _you like?"

"I think I'm still trying to figure that out. But one thing I hate is when they talk in a really high-pitched voice because they think it makes them cuter or something. I just think it sounds all fake."

"Yeah, I know what you mean."

"Also, she has to have her own interests, and I'd prefer it if she's really smart. And she has to be able to look past the blind thing. I mean, some women seem to get a kick out of playing Florence Nightingale or something, but that's such a turn-off. Then... she has to smell good. I don't mind if she's hot too, but I can't be attracted to someone if I don't like her smell."

"What if she changes perfumes?"

"Oh that doesn't matter. It's the smell that doesn't change that I go for. You know, like when you smell someone's skin."

"Someone's _skin_, huh?" Foggy laughed at the visual of Matt's nose in some girl's armpit.

"Well, everyone has their own unique scent, right? That's what I'm talking about, not..." Matt laughed, "... you know."

"So you don't collect women's used underwear or anything like that, right?"

"God no... Are there people that do that?"

"Probably."

"Where would they find them?"

"Well, if I were a pervert, I'd start stalking young women at laundromats."

"It sounds like you've given this some actual thought," Matt teased.

"Yeah right. I'm not the one who gets off on undressing women with my nose."

Matt laughed. "Come on, scent is pretty powerful. I bet everyone gets off on freshly baked cinnamon rolls."

"Sure, but not, you know, _sexually_."

"That's true. Although, you never know. So what kind of girls do you like?"

"The ones I can't have, I guess. Though, seriously, I'm not really that picky. I've never really had any wild and crazy dreams about what I want to do. I just want to get through school, get a good job, find someone nice, have a couple of kids maybe. I think that's enough. My parents seem pretty happy. I wouldn't want to be that boring, but it seems like a good life."

"Yeah, there's nothing wrong with that. I guess I'd like to have a family too, but I haven't really thought about it that much. Right now, it seems kind of silly to make any plans beyond this semester."

"You'll do fine. Me? I'm not so sure."

"Come on, you seem to know this stuff pretty well, don't you?"

"Yeah, I guess I'm doing okay. I'm a little worried about math though, I might have to drop that class."

"There's a reason I stay away from that stuff."

"But I found someone to study with, so I'll give it another couple of weeks. I might have to switch to something else if this is still Greek to me then."

"At least you have that choice. I think I'm going to have to start thinking about registering for next semester in a few weeks so I can get my books on time. God, I hate this having to plan ahead all the time."

"Yeah, that's gotta suck."

"Sometimes I get really jealous of people who can just drive anywhere they want wherever they want without having to memorize every freaking bus stop in town. I always have to plan everything, and it doesn't really suit me that well because I'm really much more spontaneous than that." Matt sighed. "Oh well, I guess I'll have to add that to my wish list. She needs to have a great car."

"Ah, we're talking about women again?"

"Yeah, I guess. So, was there anyone you liked in high school?"

"I had a crush on a girl named Linda Silverman since I was six years old. I outgrew it a couple of years ago, though."

"Ah, let me guess; your goals changed, you drifted apart…" Matt laughed when he felt Foggy's elbow in his side.

"No, you know what it was? I realized she was boring. I remember when I was a kid, I used to think she was perfect. She was pretty, and she was even nice to me. Well, it was more like she tolerated me, but at least she wasn't mean. Then we ended up on this committee together during our sophomore year, and she was still nice and pretty and all that, but that was it. I tried talking to her about important things, but it was as if she didn't really have any kind of depth. Her eyes were just dead. It was almost creepy." Foggy bit his lip when he realized what he'd just said about Linda Silverman and her dead eyes, but he meant it metaphorically. Matt didn't seem to mind.

"It's easy enough to idolize people, I guess. Especially when you don't really know them."

"It was just such a disappointment. So, my goal now is to only hang out with interesting people. The only problem is that I'm not sure if I'm an interesting person. I can never think of anything interesting to say at parties, that's for sure."

"Well, I think you're interesting."

"Thanks." Foggy stopped to look at Matt, perplexed by how a smart, good-looking, athletic guy like him would willingly hang around with someone like himself. And he knew that it wasn't just a matter of convenience or dependence. He could quite obviously both get around on his own and fend for himself. "So, did you have a lot of friends in high school?"

"Well, the thing is that I'm sort of used to always having people around. Well, except when I get to sneak off like this. I mean, you're in class with all these other people, and then there is all that extra-curricular stuff, like the debate team, or Honor Society. Then there's all the time you're supposed to be studying, and I do about half of that with someone else for obvious reasons, kind of like what I'm doing now with Angie. And for the last few years, I've had groups of people that I've hung out with, and I'd definitely call those people my friends, but..." Matt thought about how to phrase what he was trying to say. "It gets lonely sometimes. How is it that you can be surrounded by so many people and still feel that way? And this isn't some 'boo hoo no one understands me' kind of thing either. I think that maybe I've always felt that way. Maybe it was all the bullying or something, or maybe I would have felt that way anyway."

"I think I know what you mean."

"Do you?"

"You think this is how women sound when they talk about their feelings?" Foggy laughed.

Matt smiled. He could certainly see Foggy's point. "Yeah, well you're easy to talk to. But hey, we can totally talk about baseball."

"You follow baseball?"

"Sure. I'm not a crazed fan or anything, but since dad's a boxer and all that. He likes to follow all kinds of sports, so I sort of grew up with it."

"So, Yankees or Mets?"

"Yankees, definitely. If I became a Mets fan my dad would throw me out. Though I guess I don't technically live with him anymore."

"I, uh... I'm a Mets fan."

"Wow, Foggy, I'm not sure we can be friends now." Matt laughed. "No, I'm just kidding. Just don't tell my dad or anything."

"I guess it's good they never play each other, huh? I mean, couldn't we technically root for both?"

"Yeah, I guess. So, Rangers or Islanders?"

"Well, I don't really follow hockey."

"Neither do I, but since we're so close to Madison Square Garden most people are Rangers fans by default where I'm from." In fact, the stadium was close enough that Matt could actually hear the audience cheering on game night from his bedroom.

"Well, if it makes you feel better, I suppose I could be a Rangers fan."

"It's really getting cold. You think we should go back inside?" Matt put his shades back on and stood up without waiting for a reply from Foggy.

"Yeah, I guess we'd better. It's eleven o'clock." Matt was already ahead of him, and Foggy couldn't help marveling at how quickly Matt seemed to know _exactly _what direction to go in to get back to the door. It was quite a distance away and at a rather odd angle from where they had been sitting. "So how do you _do _that?"

"Do what?" Matt stopped at the door and felt for the lock on the door knob.

"I mean, do you have like a map of this place in your head already, or what?"

"Oh, that." Matt wondered what Foggy would say if he told him that he could feel the mild pressure of the cement structure from several feet away. And that was without even concentrating. With enough focus he could have sensed its shape from across the street. He decided to go for an approximation of the truth. "Well, I can sort of tell when there's something big around me sometimes. Like on this roof, it's all open space except for right here. It's hard to explain."

"But how would you know that?" What Matt was describing sounded impossible.

"Well, have you ever heard of 'facial vision'?"

"No." They continued their conversation while heading down the stairwell.

"Well, they don't call it that anymore, but it's basically the feeling that lots of blind people have when moving toward something big like this. You can sort of feel it on your face, and originally people thought it was air pressure or something. And it might be a little bit of that too for all I know, but it's mostly echoes apparently. So sounds bouncing around can give you an idea of what's around you."

"So you _hear _it?"

"Yeah, in a way, but you're not aware of it like that. It's more like a push or even like seeing a shadow almost."

"Wow, that sounds insane."

"Yeah, it's pretty neat. Like in here it's easy to get a sense of where the walls are from the echoes."

"It sounds like a superpower almost."

Matt gave him an enigmatic smile. If that was a superpower, then what he had was certainly a superpower on steroids. "It's pretty common apparently."

"Do they teach you how to do that in blind school or something?" Foggy was intrigued, and wondered why he'd never heard of this considering how often he watched the Discovery channel.

"Well, it was out-patient rehab actually, but I picked most of it up on my own. It was just one of those things I figured out I could do. But I got some pointers from Dave, my O&M instructor." That much was true, but it was Stick who had taught him to use his radar sense, analogous to echolocation, but much more powerful than anything his ears alone could provide.

"Oh and what?"

"It's stands for orientation and mobility, which is basically the art of getting from 'a' to 'b' the blind way without getting hit by a car."

"So this hearing echoes thing; how good is it?"

"Hmm, well it keeps me from running into a wall at least, and I can tell when there's like a gap between buildings and stuff. Same with big pieces of furniture." Matt opened the door to their floor.

"Hey, Murdock!" a familiar voice called out from the end of the hall, before Foggy got the chance to continue his Q and A.

"Yeah?" Matt stopped abruptly and felt Foggy almost bump into him.

"You didn't forget we have try-outs for the debate team tomorrow, right?" Eric gave Foggy a nod and looked at Matt. He had clearly forgotten.

"Oh, shit! What time?" Matt instinctively reached for the watch on his wrist as if knowing the current time would somehow get him out the jam he was in.

"It's in the evening, seven o'clock. Time and place is on the note you got if you still have it, but let me know if you have any problem getting there, okay?"

"Sure, thanks. I can make it. What are we debating?"

"Ah, we picked an easy subject this time: capital punishment. Be ready to argue either side." Eric gave Matt a pat on the arm and continued in the direction of the elevator.

"Okay, I will." Matt was relieved the try-outs wouldn't mess up his meticulously planned schedule for the next day, but he didn't feel prepared for this at all. Thankfully, he was well familiar with the subject.

Well, I guess we know what you'll be doing tomorrow." Foggy said, rather amused by how pale Matt suddenly looked.

"I can't believe I forgot. I really want to get on the team." Matt's mind was racing.

"So, which side would you prefer?"

"What?"

"For or against capital punishment?"

"Uh, against, I guess. It's easier because there's always the fallibility of the legal system angle."

"Right. But what if you were one hundred percent sure?"

"Oh, but that's all hypothetical, 'cause you can't really be sure, can you?"

"Well, I guess not." Matt seemed frozen in place, so Foggy took the initiative and unlocked their door. "Hey, let's go inside."

"Yeah, I'm coming." Matt followed Foggy inside and closed the door behind him. "Wow, I get hit with this _and _ancient writing systems in one day."

"What's that?"

"We have to do this presentation next week about various aspects of early societies. Guess who ended up in the writing systems group?"

"I guess that would be you."

"Yeah, me and this jerk. And that is _so _not my subject."

"But I bet you would be great at ancient cooking or something."

Matt laughed. "Is that supposed to cheer me up?"

"Is it working?"

"Yeah, maybe."

"Okay, let's get to bed. I'm sure you'll figure out all that stuff in your sleep."

"I wish."

"I believe in you. I mean, you've got superpowers and everything!"

"I wish." Matt did have superpowers. None of which covered a lack of preparation. "But you're a good friend, Foggy. The best."

His sleep that night was restless, his dreams a jumble of the sounds and scents of the experiences of his first week. When Matt woke up the next day, he didn't know that his life was about to change once again. Beyond the challenges of the day that lay before him, a new experience waited around the corner, only twenty-seven short hours away.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

"Come on, Matt. It's time to get up." Foggy had woken up a few times during the night to find Matt stirring restlessly in his bed, and knew that he hadn't slept well. Now, he seemed too tired to want to respond. "Come on, I showered already, the bathroom is all yours."

"Leave me alone, it's still dark out." Matt turned away from Foggy and out of the grasp of the hand on his shoulder.

"No, it's not." Foggy looked out the window. "Oh wait, is that some kind of blind joke? It's really not that funny, you know." Foggy still smiled in spite of himself.

"I'm so not ready for this." Matt was talking into his pillow now.

"Yeah, you are." Foggy sat down on Matt's bed to annoy him, hoping that would get his friend out of bed. "There's coffee, you know."

"Alright. Good. Man, I think my rhythm is all screwy again."

"Well, it's seven thirty, and we need to get out of here in half an hour."

"Yeah, I know. By the way, what's up with you? You didn't strike me as a morning person before."

"I'm not, really. I guess I'm just in a good mood."

"I'm glad one of us is." Matt got out of bed and pulled out the top drawer. His jeans from yesterday were probably still presentable but he definitely wanted a clean shirt.

"Oh come on, last night was a blast and you know you're going to kick ass at the try-outs."

"And how would you know that, exactly?" By now, Foggy at softened him up to the point where waking up didn't seem like such a bad idea. And he wasn't really that nervous about the debate, it was more a general feeling of not being on top of things.

"I guess I just don't see you as the type who breaks under pressure. Do you know where that place is? Where they are holding the try-outs?"

"I have some idea of where the building is, yeah."

"Would you like me to go with you?"

"You're free to come, if you want to, but I'll be okay." Matt pushed past Foggy into the main room.

"Do you think they let people watch? I think it sounds like fun," Foggy yelled through the bathroom door. After a few seconds he heard Matt turn the water on.

"Yeah, that's probably fine," Matt yelled back, smiling at Foggy's enthusiasm. If Foggy had wanted something more from their not-really-a-date with Angie and Molly last night, it didn't show. On the contrary, it seemed to have given him a boost.

Matt stepped into the shower and let out a groan of pleasure. He liked showers, because the sound masked everything else around him and the steady gentle pounding of small beads of water felt so good on his body. He tried to empty his mind and think about absolutely nothing at all, but the events of the last week raced through his mind.

On the whole, he had to admit that things had gone better than expected. He hadn't anticipated making friends with his roommate, and in retrospect, he realized just what a relief it was to room with someone he could feel completely at ease around. He knew Foggy thought of himself as just an average guy, but Matt knew that wasn't true. One of the positive aspects of standing out from the crowd the way he did was that it usually caused the disingenuous and truly insecure people to withdraw, leaving only those who would base friendship on something deeper. Foggy was one of those people.

He was also relieved that most of the logistical snags had been dealt with. He knew that he'd have to get a second reader some time in the next week, but Angie, at least, was working out great. And he enjoyed her company too. Even the bad stuff didn't feel so bad anymore. Or maybe it was just a conscious choice to not let that bug him. Dwelling on it was futile, and he knew he'd done too much of that. He let that realization work for him as he envisioned the day ahead. Deep down, he knew his odds of getting on the debate team were good.

Matt enjoyed a good friendly battle of words. It was a fun challenge to try to find the perfect argument to support any notion, and he knew he was good at it. He would have to be if he was ever going to be a good lawyer. It was also the only 'sport' where he could compete honestly and on an equal level. For most things, he would either have to hold back, disguise his abilities or deny them outright, or find himself on the other end of the spectrum, at a disadvantage. In debate competitions he'd always had the advantage of being able to easily pick up on nervousness and lies. He knew when his opponent wasn't really buying his own arguments and he could use that to his advantage. He also had a good feel for which way the judges were leaning. But all that seemed fair since he had certain disadvantages as well. His blindness was occasionally a distraction, not to him, but to everyone else. And, at the end of the day, no trick was going to save him. If he won, it would ultimately be because of his own wit and not his heightened senses.

As far as Joel went, Matt knew he'd faced down enough bullies to deal with him. But he wasn't used to people being openly hostile that way. He'd put up with condescending attitudes countless times, even from the very people who were supposed to be helping him, and he knew the subtle insult of low expectations. But most people kept their low expectations to themselves, and when they slipped it was always unintentional. On the one hand, it could have been refreshing to be around someone who wasn't going to cut him any slack. On the other, Matt felt bad enough about having been assigned a subject that might require an unusual amount of sighted assistance without Joel being a jerk about it.

But there would always be jerks. It was hard to do anything about that very basic fact of life. Matt could only take responsibility for his own actions, and he'd promised himself, and his father, that he would always do his best. It was all anyone could ask. He was going to stand up for himself, and for anyone else who might need it. He would do all in his power to live by that simple motto.

_Power_... As he thought about that word, it wasn't the first time he was hit by a sense of both shame and isolation. With the exception of Stick, a man whose very presence had been so mysterious that his long absence had started to make him seem like a ghost, no one knew what Matt could do. Having a secret that big and not sharing it with anyone did weigh heavy on his mind at times. Would he ever be able to tell anyone? Would that someone be Foggy? Or his dad? He had often wondered what his dad would say if he found out. Matt imagined that Jack would be relieved to hear that his life as a blind person wasn't quite the struggle it would appear to be, and just how much he treasured the new world he'd discovered.

Then again, it wasn't the same as being sighted. Before the accident, he and his father would take regular trips down to the docks to look at the ships coming in and watch the sunset. Occasionally, they would walk all over town, sometimes as far south as Battery Park where they would have a perfect view of Lady Liberty herself. With his sight gone, things were different. They still went places together, but their activities had changed. Matt wouldn't have minded doing all of the same things they had always done, but he knew it pained his father too much.

Just like his son, Jack had grown up in a dirty part of town with not much to look at, yet had a great appreciation for beauty; much more than anyone expected from a guy who beat people up for money. When you didn't have much, you tended to appreciated the little things. Despite his abilities, Matt could no longer share in the enjoyment of many of the things his father valued, and all the photographs of his mother and his childhood days were just glossy pieces of paper. Closer than ever in some ways, an invisible barrier remained. Matt knew that his father would have given his own life to bring him back to the sighted world, but that world wasn't his anymore, no matter how clearly he could hear it, smell it and feel it. Even if Matt chose to tell him, things would never be as they once were.

Another worry Matt had when it came to letting people know, aside from the vague and slightly paranoid idea that he'd have his head cut open by ruthless doctors, was to not have his blindness taken seriously. It was a realization he'd made fairly recently, as he was finally beginning to make at least casual friends with the 'd word'. While he got over describing himself as blind within a few months of the accident, it was only in the last year that he could stand being referred to as 'disabled' without cringing. He knew it really wasn't such a terrible word and finally beginning to own it was a relief, in a way. It meant accepting the places his heightened senses couldn't reach, the same places he felt would be called into question if people around him would learn about his extraordinary abilities.

When he'd gone to camp the first summer after the accident, he'd met a guy about his own age who could see relatively well and easily pass for sighted in most circumstances. In fact, everything about him appeared so 'normal' that he felt it had sometimes been implied that he was exaggerating when he couldn't see something. Matt knew that if people couldn't even wrap their heads around something as simple as low vision, how would anyone be able to make sense of what came easy to someone like him and what didn't?

No, this wasn't something he could announce to the whole world. But he knew he'd have to tell someone eventually. _Maybe if he met someone?_ Matt smiled to himself, only dimly aware of how much time had passed when he heard Foggy knock on the door for him to hurry up. He had reached a decision. When he met the girl of his dreams, he would tell her. He would find someone to share his secret with.

ooOoo

Matt made sure to be the first one to show up in the cafeteria for the group assignment get-together with Joel, Georgia and Joanie. He could find people he'd met before by their smell or sound, but he wasn't supposed to be able to do that so he had to play dumb until his name was called. To avoid that particular scenario, which made him feel both stupid and like something of a fraud, it was better to be early. It was also a good habit to have since he had a nearly impossible time of trying to find people he _hadn't_ met before.

He found an empty table by asking a question of whoever happened to be around, even though he knew it wasn't taken. Sometimes doing things the blind way seemed natural, or even necessary, but many of the things he did was an act. Fortunately, it was a well-rehearsed routine. No one had ever questioned whether he could see more than he let on. He had to "fake it" so that no one would accuse him of doing just that. But no one ever said life had to make perfect sense.

Within a couple of minutes, Joel showed up. If he had known him better, Matt could have picked up his scent and heartbeat sooner, but as it were, he registered his presence when he was about fifty feet away.

"Hey, Matt. It's Joel." He grabbed a chair, scraped it across the floor and sat down.

"Hey." Matt let a hint of a smile play across his lips. He didn't have to be cordial, but he could try to be civil.

"So, I just wanted to tell you..." Joel hesitated for a couple of seconds, "I'm sorry I gave you a hard time before." His voice told Matt that he was sincere, but there was a rather grumpy tone to it. Apologizing was probably not something he did very often.

"Yeah, you were kind of an asshole." Matt wasn't going to let him off the hook with an 'it's okay, all is forgiven'.

"I guess I need to work on my social skills, huh?"

"Here's the thing, Joel..." Matt took a few seconds to put away the book he had out. He could hear Joel's steady heartbeat and knew he had his attention. "Don't presume to know me. Okay?"

"Okay." He nodded, and Matt could sense his head sort of bob up and down.

"I get that people assume things about me, even though that's none of their business. It's not something I can change except by setting people straight if they give me the chance, but disrespect is never cool. I never liked the silk gloves types, and I get the feeling that you're more of a gloves off kind of guy. I appreciate that, but I'm not going to take any crap from you or anyone else."

"Okay. I respect that."

"And, having said all that," Matt smiled a little longer this time, "I must admit that this isn't the subject I would have picked."

"Same here." Joel chuckled. "So, are we cool?"

"Yeah, I guess so. I kind of have this thing about second chances."

ooOoo

"Okay, Murdock," Eric said, leaning forward a little like he was coaching a boxer just about to go into the ring, "we have the line-up on the board, but I'll come get you when it's your turn, okay?"

"Yeah. Okay." It was almost hard to concentrate on Eric's voice when his own heartbeat was so loud in his chest. He wasn't terribly nervous, but definitely on edge.

"So, Eric," Foggy piped up, "is it okay for people to stay and watch?"

"You're the cheerleader, huh?" Eric said jokingly. "Well, if Matt and this Julie Parsons person are both okay with it, you're welcome to join us."

"So, that's my opponent?" Matt thought about the name, as if that would give him a clue to what her style might be.

"Yeah. In the meantime, you guys stay out here. We can't have anyone listening in there since you're all debating the same thing. That would be unfair to the people who have to go first."

"Okay, we'll be around." Matt made a conscious decision not to eavesdrop through the wall. He wasn't going to cheat.

"There are some chairs over here." Foggy looked at the jumbled collection of chairs that seemed to have been lined up against the wall outside the classroom for this particular purpose.

Matt reached with his cane toward one of the chairs. He knew it wasn't taken and the sound when he tapped against it confirmed it. He reached down with his hand and took a seat, absent-mindedly listening to all the other loud thumping heartbeats all around. There was a heavy scent of nervousness in the air and some people were mumbling under their breaths. He seemed to be the only one with an escort, so there was no talking.

Foggy took a seat too and checked out Matt's competition. They all looked rather prim and proper, but aside from that, he guessed they must come from all walks of life. In the group of about twenty people, every ethnicity and social class seemed to be represented. Hesitant to disturb anyone, Foggy remained silent and noticed that Matt took out his tape recorder. He might have had notes on the tape that he wanted to listen to, or maybe it was a book.

Foggy tried to guess what Matt was thinking, sitting there with his head leaned back against the wall and his eyes, which were only ever visible up close and from the side, staring into apparent nothingness. Foggy wasn't really that worried for his friend. The others present didn't exactly look like the village idiots of their respective home towns, but from their one week together, Foggy had come to expect a lot of his roommate. They hadn't had much time to study yet, but Matt seemed to be on top of every single subject and he had a core academic knowledge of a wide variety of subjects that was nothing short of amazing. His brilliance seemed to be the result of equal parts interest and necessity. Without hard cash, and with a limited ability to perform many types of manual labor, his mind was his only asset. He was literally paying his way through life with good grades, awards and achievements.

Foggy didn't know that kind of pressure. He got good grades too, and it was expected of him, but for Matt academia was a high-stakes game that he couldn't afford to lose, and it was clear that losing wasn't something he was used to. Was that what Matt was thinking about? About what might happen if his winning streak and long line of successes in the face of adversity would come to an end? His scholarship didn't ride on his making the debate team, but maybe he was afraid of losing steam, that destiny itself would appear and declare that 'this is the end of the line for you, Matt Murdock. Did you really think you were going to make it?'. From the stern expression on Matt's face, Foggy imagined that maybe Matt really was thinking something like that.

Matt was still working his way through that same John Grisham novel, and he could just as well have been listening to white noise since his mind was a million miles away anyway. He felt bad for Foggy who just had to sit around and wait, though he'd never actually asked him to, but after about ten minutes Matt noticed Foggy taking out one of his books so he could read to pass the time. It would be about a half hour before Eric came out and called his name. Matt jumped, and was reminded of how he'd done the same thing, while listening to the same novel, less than a week ago in Gina's office. Both times, it had felt like waiting at the dentist's. Matt stood up and noticed Foggy do the same.

"You want me in there or not?" Foggy asked. It had occurred to him again that maybe Matt wasn't so keen on him listening in.

Matt smiled. "Do whatever you feel like. But it doesn't bother me if that's what you're worried about."

"Okay, I'm coming in then." Foggy looked at the other person who had stood up, a thin girl with very pale skin who was nervously playing with the strap on her backpack. Meanwhile, Eric had approached them.

"So, I guess I should show you where you're going to be." Eric touched Matt's hand the way he'd seen Foggy do and was immediately rewarded with a firm grasp around his arm. When they approached the door, Matt seemed to fall back and move behind him automatically as if he'd known it was there.

As soon as they entered the larger room, the air seemed to shift and Matt noticed the other people sitting in the front row. He was wondering who they were. "Who else is here?"

"Oh, right." Eric took Matt over to an appropriate spot and worked his arm out of his grip. Before he got the chance to gather his thoughts, Julie, Matt's opponent came over.

"Hey, I'm Julie. It's nice to meet you." She took Matt's hand as soon as he put it out.

"Hi. Matt Murdock." Matt heard Julie walk back to her own spot a few feet away as soon as she let go of him. The others in attendance were still quiet, and Matt felt scrutinized. He reasoned that he would have felt even more awkward if it hadn't been for his heightened senses since he knew more about them than they would ever suspect, but for the time being, they were still just anonymous heartbeats, breath sounds and a mixture of scents.

"Yeah, I guess I should tell you about the panel. We have the faculty advisor, Mr. Dillon, and me and another couple of people from the team, Jacob and Emma." The people in question followed Eric's introduction with a soft hello.

"Would you hold this for me?" Matt folded up his cane and held it out in Eric's direction. He definitely wanted his hands free, and he'd also noticed that if he kept the cane, people tended to spend too much time looking at it, rather than focusing on him.

"Sure." Eric grabbed it, and walked across the floor to take his seat. "Okay, like I mentioned before, we're debating capital punishment. Julie, I want you to take the affirmative side, and Matt, you'll take the negative. Okay?"

"Sure." Matt let out a sigh of relief. He was better at arguing this side. He listened for Foggy and found him a couple of rows back, his heartbeat unusually strong, but steady. At least one person in the room was wholeheartedly on his side.

"This is just to get a feel for your style and what you're made of so the rules will be very simple. I want two minute introductions from both of you, then we'll do two rounds of one-minute rebuttals and that's it. Nothing fancy. Formally, the resolution is 'capital punishment can be an appropriate form of punishment in modern society.' Julie, you'll go first."

Matt's nervousness gradually started giving way to excitement as he listened to Julie's side. She was actually quite good, but he felt that she went a little too 'old testament' considering they were debating the death penalty in modern society. He was psyched to get his turn. It wasn't jumping from a building, but the adrenaline rush was the same and he loved that taste of adrenaline.

When Julie was done, Eric passed the ball to Matt. He took a deep breath and stood up a little straighter.

"In the case of capital punishment, we need to consider two separate but equally important notions. The first is a matter of ethics. Is it ever justifiable to take a human life? And, if so, should this be the responsibility of the state and national government? I feel that it is not in the interest of any modern democracy to act as executioner. I will admit, however, that the ethics here are certainly debatable and that vengeance is an age-old human tradition which many feel is still warranted.

Are there people whose crimes are heinous enough to deserve the ultimate punishment? Perhaps. But who gave us the right to take a human life to avenge another that can never be restored? It is ultimately a form of hypocrisy.

The more important aspect here has nothing to do with ethics, however. If we are to give ourselves as a society the divine right to take lives, we also have to match this power with a divine level of insight. We must know, beyond a doubt, that the truth has come out, that the jury is not swayed by anything other than the evidence at hand, and that the evidence itself is sufficient to prove the guilt of the accused. We can no longer talk about reasonable doubt, there should be absolutely no doubt. There is _no_ room for error.

I believe in the justice system, but I do not believe that it is infallible. We know that people have been wrongfully convicted in the past, and I believe that modern technology will show that these convictions are more common than we would like to believe. Just this spring, we saw the first case of a man being exonerated on the basis of DNA evidence. His was not a capital offence, but I am convinced that innocent people have been executed and that more will meet the same fate, because of human arrogance. Because we presume to have all the facts.

Until we can truly know, _far_ beyond a reasonable doubt, whether people are guilty or innocent, the hypothetical debate of whether we should be allowed to kill people in the name of the justice system is irrelevant. As a society, we are not yet mature enough."

Matt felt himself to returning to normal after operating on auto-pilot, the way he always did. He tried to get a feel for whether his speech was well-received, but could only hear steady heartbeats and pens scratching paper. Foggy sounded a little calmer however, while Julie certainly did not, and he heard her hesitate when it was her time to speak up. He had to fight hard to restrain a smile. He was pretty sure he was doing okay.

ooOoo

"Hey, we should go somewhere and celebrate!" Foggy was almost bouncing down the street leading to their building, and he usually wasn't a bouncing kind of guy.

"Wait a sec, Foggy. First of all, I can't afford to go out every night. Secondly, don't you think we should study or something?"

"Yeah, I know. But you made the team, we should at least do something. How about we order pizza? On me."

Matt laughed. He could tell Foggy was dying for a pizza. "Okay, we'll get pizza."

"Great. So, I bet you're probably going to get to travel and stuff, right? You said you'd never been anywhere, but that's all going to change now, right?"

"Yeah, I guess so. I never even thought about that. We should at least get to go to other universities on the East coast." The thought of it was rather exciting, even though none of those places would be as comfortably familiar as Manhattan. Maybe it was time to surrender control and just go along for the ride for once.

"Now, what am _I_ going to do?" Matt was starting to find his niche, but Foggy wasn't sure what his was yet.

"You'll think of something."

ooOoo

Matt got on the phone as soon as he got back to the apartment, excited to tell Jack about his latest accomplishment. He didn't even bother with a standard greeting when he heard his father's voice on the other line. "Dad, I made the debate team!"

"Matty? What… That's great." Jack was surprised by the call and Matt didn't give him much time to digest the news. "That's really great, son."

"Yeah, I really wanted this and now we might get to travel and stuff. I never even thought about that, but that's a definite possibility. Anyway, it was really fun and this guy who's head of the team lives on my floor and he's real nice and… anyway, I just wanted to tell you." After carefully controlling the speed of every word, Matt had gone into full rambling mode, and now he suddenly sounded like a ten-year-old with a sugar high.

"I'm real happy for you Matty." Jack couldn't really relate to many of the things his son liked to do, but Matt sounded ecstatic, and that was all that mattered. Jack could feel his eyes almost start to well up. This was definitely a different Matt than the one he'd had lunch with a few days ago.

"Thanks, Dad. Listen, I have to go, Foggy ordered some pizza and it'll be here any minute. Tell everyone back home I said 'hi'."

"Will do." Jack laughed. "You know I bet you're going to put this whole neighborhood on the map some day. Even that nice lady down at the store asked about you."

"Well, I'm not exactly running for mayor or anything. But when I'm famous, I swear never to forget my roots," Matt joked.

"Well, Hell's Kitchen will thank you for that one," Jack joked back. "I'll talk to you later, Matt. I'm real proud of you, you know that."

"Yeah, I know. Bye, Dad."

After hanging up, Matt listened to the sound of someone walking down the hall, accompanied by the smell of tomato sauce and melted cheese. He hadn't even realized how hungry he was. "Foggy, the pizza is here."

Two seconds later, there was a knock on the door, and Foggy gave Matt a perplexed look. "How do you _do_ that?" He shook his head and shrugged it off. "Never mind, you don't have to answer. Attention to detail?"

"Something like that." Matt smiled from the couch where he'd laid down to take a rest from all the excitement of the last hour. He heard Foggy fumble with the cash and noticed how the room filled with an almost dizzying aroma when the pizza was set down on the coffee table.

"I'll go get knives and some napkins. No need to get up or anything," Foggy joked. Matt looked like he'd won a million dollars, and Foggy thought the grin on his face was funny as hell.

"You know, I'm starting to feel like anything could happen."

"Sure, this is college. If things don't start happening soon, I'll be really pissed." Foggy thought about it, and realized he didn't know the debate team meant that much to Matt. Or maybe it wasn't the debate team, but the fact that he'd reached yet another stop on the road to wherever he was going. Lady Fortune was still smiling on the guy who'd once been struck down by the worst case of bad luck anyone could imagine.

"Anything could happen, Foggy. I'm really starting to believe that."

ooOoo

Friday marked the last day of the first week of classes. Aside from that, the day was unremarkable. The stifling heat of August was gone, and the sun felt like a warm touch on Matt's face, rather than like the burning heat of a radiator turned up to the max. The high of last night had started to settle, but he was in a better mood than he'd been at any time since arriving on campus. Many of the 'buts' and 'what ifs' had been laid to rest, and it was time to really start looking ahead. His dad had said he had great things ahead of him, and somehow, it all started to feel like he might be right.

Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, Matt and Foggy would pass the library to get from one class to the next, and that act would have been routine this morning as well, if it weren't for the fact that Matt's world was about to be turned upside down once more.

If it weren't for the favorable wind, Matt might have missed the intoxicating scent that reached him from the top of the stairs, and if Foggy hadn't taken an accidental nose-dive into the cement, spilling his books all over the steps, the group of people from which the scent was emanating wouldn't have made their brief stop to look at the commotion. There was a faint laugh coming from the young girl in their midst. It wasn't mocking, but innocent, and it sent a jolt up Matt's body in a way he'd never felt before. The scent had to be hers too, and Matt felt his pulse begin to pound in his chest so hard that it felt like his ribs wouldn't be able to hold his heart in place.

Foggy paid no attention to anything except getting his books back in his backpack, and he swore under his breath at his own clumsiness. He suddenly felt Matt's hand on his shoulder, shaking him. "What is it?" Foggy was annoyed until he noticed the desperation in Matt's face.

"Those people… Who are they?"

"Eh, what?" Foggy turned around in the direction Matt's nose was pointing. "Looks like some girl with an entourage. Why?"

"Tell me about the girl."

"Well, for starters, she's looking at you." Foggy grinned, amused by Matt's sudden interest in someone he should barely be able to perceive.

"Everyone looks at me, big deal. Tell me what she looks like."

"Well, she was actually looking at you the good way." Foggy smiled, but Matt looked dead serious. "What she looks like? She's very pretty, dark. Long hair, brown, almost black. Expensive tastes." Even Foggy could tell the difference between Old Navy and Saks Fifth Avenue.

Matt said nothing, but listened intently to the conversation up ahead. The girl hadn't said much, she was obviously being given the grand tour, but her words bore the traces of an accent. He listened a little longer, hoping to catch a name. When it was finally spoken, he smiled. With both her scent and a name to go on, he would surely be able to find her again. "Elektra…" he said, his voice barely a whisper.

"What?" Foggy was wondering if his friend was possessed because he was certainly acting like it.

"Foggy, I have to find her again."

"Alright, we'll find her. First, we need to get to class. You coming?"

Matt nodded and swallowed hard. They would find her. "Yeah, I'm coming."

"Matt, I swear, sometimes you're just the weirdest guy." Foggy looked at his friend, who finally seemed to be able to shake off the strange feeling that had temporarily overcome him.

Matt smiled, his heart still feeling too big for his chest. "This won't do, Murdock," he thought to himself, certain that he wouldn't get anything done until he could track down the mysterious stranger who had walked past him and into the void beyond his reach, leaving a trace of herself behind. _I have to find her_.

**THE BEGINNING**

Author's (final) note: For anyone who hates me for ending the story this way, rest assured that I will have the opportunity to revisit the Lost and Found universe. The full story (novel...) will be available in pdf-format for download in a few days on my website (go to .). I will also write a Christmas story set a few years later in the same universe that I will post in a few days so keep your eyes open for that. Thank you all for reading**!  
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